


A Long Way Down

by Siriusfanatic



Series: X-Men: Past, Present and Future [8]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, F/M, Flashback fic, Homelessness, M/M, Mind Rape, Multi, Polyamory, Prostitution, Stalking, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-04-17 09:52:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 101,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4662261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siriusfanatic/pseuds/Siriusfanatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remy, Logan, and Storm are finally becoming comfortable with their new relationship status. In the days before their departure for Louisana, Remy seeks advice from Beast about truly coming clean about his past, and decides to tell the X-Men how it was that became the object of Sinister's obsession.</p>
<p>    Logan, Storm, and Hank each process the details of Remy's past and try to decide what it means to them personally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey gang!  
> Finally a little breather from the deep dark angst I've been writing recently. This story, while it deals with the usual touchy subjects involved in Remy's past, is much lighter. I will continue to post trigger warnings on chapters that I feel need them, but there will be much less in this story.  
> We'll get to see much more of Remy/Logan/Storm's dynamic as well, and get a further glimpse into Hank's feelings on the pack.  
> Thanks for reading my madness as always, enjoy!

 

 

 

                Were it not for the faint howl of the wind outside the windows that rattled the shudders and window panes, Remy would not have remembered how far North he was, or that it was still snowing bitterly outside in a way that made Spring seem all too distant.

                He was coiled in a cocoon of arms and legs, quiet breathing and muffled heartbeats. The woman was wrapped around his back, long legs tangled with his, her dark skin making his winter-pale flesh look more drastic by contrast. One of her arms was draped around his middle, the other coiled tightly against her chest, pressing between his shoulders. He could feel her breath against his shoulder blade. The man was in front of him, a sprawl of thick muscular arms and legs nestled close against him. Remy’s face was against his collarbone, and one of Logan’s long arms was tucked under him, probably completely numb from the Cajun using it as a pillow.

                Wolverine scowled in his sleep, but it was softer than his usual frown, and Gambit couldn’t quite help but giggle sleepily at the way his wild black hair matted itself into snarls of spikes and cowlicks in his sleep.

                Learning to sleep three to a bed was nothing short of a challenge, but the three partners had been practicing it often for the last week. Their relationship was still budding, still new. Dynamics were being made and tested, new bonds of trust slowly forming over battle scars of everything that had come before. It was at times clumsy and awkward, full of hesitations and moments of doubt. But it was also honest, loving and open. And that made it worth trying.

                With as much grace as he could, Remy managed to slither his way out of the tangle of arms and legs that pinned him to the mattress. Both Logan and Ororo bemoaned the loss, or grunted as a sudden weight shifted and lifted, allowing more freedom of movement. He watched them both settle down beside each other, close but not quite touching, both still clinging to sleep.

                He felt almost guilty for leaving the fold, but his bladder wasn’t going to be patient with him much longer. Outside the fold of their arms, Ororo’s attic loft was chilly and drafty. Remy shivered and quickly found a hooded sweatshirt from the floor and slid it over his naked torso before trotting off towards the bathroom.

                Once relieved, he returned to see if anyone noticed he was missing. Neither of his partners had stirred, and he felt somewhat relieved. He padded silently across the rugs and wooden floorboards to the windows, moving the heavy curtains to peer outside. It wasn’t quite morning yet; the clock beside the bed gave the hour as 5 a.m. It was a weekend, and no classes were being held, not even extra circulars or combat training. The mansion was still.

                Zipping up his hoodie and hitching his pajama pants higher up on his hips, he decided that sleep was a loss, and that now was the perfect time to prowl.

                It was an old habit, one learned from his youth in foster homes and the orphanage. He slept only as much as needed and then made himself scarce, looking for whatever opportunities he could, whether it be the first crack at the breakfast, or a chance to escape a hung-over foster parent’s imminent rage. Aside from this, he also relished the freedom it gave him, to move about as he pleased, unbothered and unnoticed by everyone else. Tante Mattie, the woman who had become his surrogate mother, called him a cat, a witch’s familiar, prowling the dark pre-dawn halls of the old house with his gleaming demon eyes, never making a sound.

                He made his way down to lower floors in silence, sensing those who were still sleeping soundly in their beds, those who were struggling with nightmares and insomnia, and others, who like him, saw an opportunity to be gained in the silence before the dawn.

                Remy caught sight of Hank in the common room and paused in the shadow of the doorway, all but invisible. The big blue-furred mutant had his customary cup of coffee steaming in his hand and was listening to the delicate sounds of an orchestra playing from the small speakers of an MP3 player beside him, as he hummed along, clearly lost in the music.

                Gambit grinned to himself, having caught Beast in such a private moment. Everything about Hank reminded him the old antique polished china in his father’s cabinet that sat in the formal dining room, with their delicate blue pictures; poise, refinement, with a deep sense of time and history and propriety. Something to be looked at but not touched.

                But Remy was never very good at abiding by rules such as these. He had curiosity and clever, sticky fingers that were always going where they shouldn’t.

                Hank must have smelled him because he sat up stiffly, the coffee in his cup sloshing forward slightly and dribbling over the lip. Remy saw his amber eyes flash in the dark and felt a little thrill of fear, backing further into the shadow.

                “Who’s there? Don’t lurk…it’s rude.”

                Gambit stepped into the pale light of the nearly unlit room and Hank eased a little. “Remy! Goodness…if I hadn’t caught your scent I would never have seen you. What are you doing up so early?”

                LeBeau shrugged. “Same as you I suppose.”

                “You also enjoy early morning mediation to the sounds of Tchaikovsky?” Beast asked with a faint smirk on his lips.

                “Non,” Remy answered. “I like getting de lay of de land as it were, hit de ground runnin’…all dat jazz.” He grinned and danced his hand along the top of the piano that was pressed against the wall; an antique, probably belonging to Xavier’s family. Remy already estimated it’s worth at well over three grand…it would have been more, except for the faint scuffs it had acquired from the students over time.

                “And where are your companions? Still asleep, I should hope.”

                “Oui,” Remy nodded. “Did not want to wake dem yet, kept dem both up late…” he grinned to himself then flushed slightly under Hank’s gaze.

                The big blue feral was sometimes hard to read, even for all of Remy’s empathy. There was a wall there, something that had been carefully constructed over time, that kept things…muted, muffled. Remy hadn’t realized how distant Beast kept his emotions until after he’d returned with Wolverine. The man who had saved his life, who had been so invested in his recovery and his well-being was suddenly closed, amiable, but distant.

                Remy wasn’t sure why, and what he suspected only made it worse. Maybe now that Remy was no longer his patient, Hank’s opinion of him had lessened. Maybe he, like so many of the other members of the house, now looked at Gambit with a dubious eye, always wondering, never really sure of his intentions or his character.

                “Have a seat then, if you have the time,” Hank offered, settling back in his chair. “I wouldn’t mind some company.”

                “Really?”

                “Of course.” Hank nodded.

                Gambit fell back into the deep cushions of one of the surrounding love-seats and tried to look as effortlessly at ease as possible, though Hank sensed there was tension in his core. “I suppose it’s been awhile since we’ve really had a chance to talk,” the Doctor offered. “I hear that you three are heading off on a little vacation. I envy you; where’s the destination? Someplace warm I would imagine.”

                “Back home, to N’Awlins.” Remy replied, letting his accent thicken as he rolled the name off his tongue like molasses. “Gonna show dem how de natives party at Mardis Gras.”

                Hank looked mildly surprised at this, raising an eyebrow. “Oh! How exciting. I admit, I’m somewhat surprised that you would want to return there so soon.”

                Remy tilted his head; “Why’s dat, cher?”

                “Well…I only mean that you’ve made no mention of going back since your arrival here; I suppose I had assumed it held too many bad memories for you.”

                Remy shrugged; “If I avoided every place that ever gave me a bad memory, cher, I’d run out of places to go real quick. Life’s not about dat, not about dwelling on de bad. Gotta hold on to the good things with both fists and never let ‘em go, take whatever you can and hold on for the ride! New Orleans is all about dat; I could never forsake her.”

                “That’s refreshing,” Hank said with a smile. “I like your ‘ _joi de vie’_ , Remy.”

                “Merci,” Gambit grinned. Here he paused then, staring at the portraits on the walls, thinking hard, considering. “Can I ask you somet’ing, homme?”

                “Of course,” Hank replied, sounding curious as he sat his coffee aside and turned off his music, looking at Remy attentively.

                “You’ve known Logan and Storm a lot longer den I have…dis t’ing we have, dis relationship…it’s new to me. I couldn’t be happier…and I’m scared shitless I’m gonna ruin it all.”

                Hank tensed and gave Gambit a sympathetic glance, but the Cajun could sense he was somewhat uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. “If you’re asking me for romantic advice, Remy, I’m afraid I’m astonishingly under qualified to do so….perhaps Jean, or Scott…”

                _Scott._ Was he insane? Why on earth would he suggest _Scott_ as the man to turn to in this situation?

                “I just…I know what people t’ink of me. I know ya’ll know what I came from; about my life before Logan.”

                Hank stilled, listening. “No one is judging you. All of our stories have chapters that we’d rather not share, things we’d like to forget.”

                “Dat’s not de point…it was my hidin’ t’ings dat lead to all dis trouble. Nearly cost me everyt’ing I care about. I can’t let dat happen again; I t’ink I oughta come clean about my past; all of it. I want to be de one tellin’ de story for once; so maybe dey understand it better. Ya know?”

                “I…” Hank didn’t know what to say; Remy was looking at him so intently, so eagerly seeking his council and approval. A small, mean part of Hank whispered that doing so would probably make his former lover cringe; maybe see Remy with a more realistic lenses instead of love-sick way he usually looked at the man. But Hank pushed this voice away with force, hating that it existed. He was not immune to jealousy, but he loathed it all the same.

                “I think honesty and openness can only ever improve a relationship. Especially in Logan’s case.” He answered then, smooth and composed. “I learned that the hard way.”

                Remy’s eyes widened a little; “So it is true; you and Wolverine were lovers.”

                “Once; for a brief time. But it wasn’t meant to be.” Hank nodded, lifting himself from his chair and stretching. “How could I ever compete with the likes of a goddess like Ororo, or your own dazzling charm? He loves you so; it makes me realize how pale our own flame was in comparison.” He said all this with a steady aloofness that was almost disturbing, but Remy could feel the cracks in that wall of resolve. He felt that Hank was still getting over all of it; that the man hadn’t quite let go, for all his efforts. “But, _c’est le vie_ , as the French say. There’s always a chance that I might meet someone that looks at me the way that Logan looks at you, or speaks of you with such regard as Ororo does. Though…I don’t believe it will be anytime soon.”

                Gambit paused thoughtfully then stood, shoving his hands into his pockets as he shrugged; “Well, anyone who could look at you and not see what we see, M’sieur McCoy, clearly has no taste at all. When de right one come along, you’ll know for sure, cause dey’ll see you for what you are. Somet’ing special.”

                He turned with a smile on his lips and left Hank alone again, blinking and staring after his shadow, which vanished as completely as he did into the dark. “I…I really do not know what to make of that charming young man.”

 

**

 

                Wolverine woke to find that the Cajun was absent, not only from his arms, but from the room itself. An instant pang of dread filled him, shaking off all ideas of returning to sleep. He sat up a little too quickly and an arm reached out and caught his lightly.

                “He went downstairs, it’s okay,” Ro’s soft voice insisted, bringing him back from the edge of his primal instincts. He looked back at her. She was soft and warm from sleep still, her hair falling in her face, looking like milk pouring along her neck and her eyes were softer and seemed bigger than usual. Logan settled back beside her, pulling her into the gap that separated them and kissed her lips and forehead, curling the blankets closer around them.

                “Freezing in here, no wonder he went off. You want me to fix those windows? Seems like they’re draftier than usual…”

                “You’re no carpenter.”

                “I built a cabin once. I think. Or maybe I dreamed I did. Whatever, it can’t be that hard.”

                She smiled against his skin, smoothing down his chest hair and getting as close as possible to his naked skin. “Hush. Just lay with me like this for a little while…I’ve missed it.”             

                He nodded and kissed her hair, closing his eyes again as they settled. He’d missed her too, more than he’d realized. It had only been a few weeks since the mess with Creed; normalcy was slowly trying to seep back into his life. Wolverine found he was afraid to relax, however; living in constant dread that the moment he did something would rush in and sweep his peace away and leave him with nothing. This partnership they had created felt fragile, delicate, the parts still learning to fit together. It wasn’t something any of them had experienced before, but it felt right all the same. Which was why it was so precious.

                He would never cease being grateful to the woman in his arms; she had saved him in so many ways. Without her he would have nothing.

                “Been a long time since I’ve been able ta hold ya like this,” he mumbled. “I missed it too.”

                She squeezed him a little closer and kissed his neck before pulling back enough to look at him thoughtfully. “Are you okay with this; with the two of us?”

                “Funny time to ask, darlin’.”

                “Remy’s not here. You seem comfortable with he and I together now, but I know you’ve been reluctant to be really alone with either of us.”

                Logan scrubbed his eye with the palm of his hand, wishing he could just go back to sleep. But there was no escaping Ororo when she wanted to talk about something seriously; and he knew he couldn’t avoid the subject forever. Not if this was going to last. “It’s taken me a long while to forget about when you left. I was angry about it, maybe more angry than I shoulda been. I’m sorry for that, Ro.”

                Storm nodded, knowing there was more to it than that, but accepting that this was progress and she would have to take it as it came. “You had a right to be angry. But I didn’t do it to hurt you or because I didn’t love you. I haven’t been in love many times, but the few that I have; it’s always ended with the other person walking away and leaving me exposed; alone. So I left before that could happen.”

                Wolverine took this in, frowning at the ceiling, but he held her hand and kept her close all the same. “I figured I drove ya off. I know you saw me with Jeanie…”

                Storm flinched slightly at the mention of the woman. Jean was still her friend, but she had become a sore spot when it came to Logan. But not for the reasons the man assumed. She sat up, looking down at him seriously. “I did see you with Jean. But I know it was nothing.”

                “We kissed.”

                “She kissed you. She was scared, she was vulnerable, that fight left us all a little shaken. Scott got hurt…she turned to you. It wasn’t your fault.”

                “Then why did you leave? You never even said goodbye. Storm, I loved you. One minute you were there, the next you were headed for Wakanda, and even the Professor didn’t know if you were coming back.” There was harder edge to his voice, a deep rooted suspicion, even resentment. The wound went much deeper than he let on.

                She moved away from him now, feeling angry and exposed again. Outside the wind picked up and the snow began to drive harder. She brushed at the corners of her eyes as she sat on the edge of the bed, glaring at the glass doors in frustration. “I didn’t leave because of Jean. I didn’t leave because I was jealous or because of anything you did wrong. I left because of me, and only me. And my regret was that it hurt you so much. When I came back you looked at me like a stranger, and the next thing I knew you were in New Orleans.”

                They sat in silence for a moment and then she felt the man slide up behind her, resting his forehead between her shoulders, arms sliding around her middle. “We both fucked up. I’m sorry darlin’.”

                “So am I.” she breathed, letting him brace her. She exhaled deeply, letting the last of that anger flee her, leaving her clean again. It felt good to say it all, like washing the dirt out of a wound. She turned around so she could look at him again, smoothing back his tussled hair and scratching at his stubble, kissing his cheek and practically making him purr. “Now we just have to work on your hesitation with Remy.”

                “One problem at a time, Ro.” He glanced around then, feeling anxious that Remy hadn’t resurfaced yet. “Better go see what the Cajun is up to.”

 

**

                Once dressed, they descended upon the lower floors of the school, following a warm, sweet yeasty smell that was filling the halls. “Mm, someone’s baking.”

                “I know that smell,” Logan replied, leading the way. Peering into the kitchen he found the source the decadent aroma, which was Remy, standing next to the stove, ladling out puffy fried pastries from a pan and dropping them onto a paper towel covered tray on the counter, dousing each in a hefty shower of powdered sugar.

                Wolverine stole up behind the lanky southerner and put his arms around him tightly, nipping his neck softly. “Mmm…I don’t know what smells better, you or those donuts.”

                “ _Beignets_ , cher,” Remy corrected, twisting back to kiss him. He had a smear of powdered sugar on his cheek that Logan licked off eagerly, making him laugh again. “Stop! You worse den an old hound dog,”

                Storm came around the other side of the counter, peering at the two of them as she admired the hefty platter of pastries. “Looks like you were up early; what’s the occasion?”

                “Restlessness, and a sweet tooth I suppose. Besides, I need to bring some good southern cookin’ into dis house; ya’ll eat too much funny colored cereal and toaster bullshit. Need a real breakfast.”

                “Fried dough constitutes as a real breakfast?” Storm giggled.

                “Maybe not for you, cherie, you already sweet enough.” Remy teased, laying the southern charm on thick as he usually did when he was feeling playful. They heard the rustle of more movement as a sleepy pair of feet entered the kitchen.

                “What smells so _good_?” Jubilee asked, ignoring the fact that Logan was attached to Remy’s backside, or that LeBeau was letting Storm lick powdered sugar off his fingers. Her eye was on the plate between them.

                “Are those for everybody?” she asked eagerly, before glancing at Wolverine; “Or are they for some weird sex game? Cause that’s not fair if you three are gonna like, roll around on them, or eat the off each other. Ew.” She looked at Logan specifically as she said this, picturing him dusted in powder sugar.

                Both Remy and Storm swallowed their laughter while Logan gave the young woman a deadpan look from his position behind his male lover, grabbing a pastry from the plate and stuffing it into her mouth; “Put that mouth of yours to better use, kid.”

                She grinned and moved past them, creeping off to find a seat.

                “Actually, I wanted to talk to you,” Gambit said then to his partners, finishing his last dusting of powdered sugar before reaching for the coffee pot.

                “’Bout what, darlin’?”

                Remy didn’t answer, but he quickly poured them all a drink and scooped up one plate of pastries before ushering them after him. They abandoned the soon to be crowded confines of the kitchen for one of the adjoining seating areas, which had a large circular table tucked beneath a window with plenty of comfortable chairs. Hank was there, pouring over papers. The big blue mutant looked up, slightly startled when they arrived.

                “Good morning,” he fumbled, adjusting his glasses against his slightly blood-shot eyes.

                “Still up, Henri?” Remy asked lightly, he put the plate of food down on the table in front of Hank as Storm and Logan slid in beside him, all looking at the tall Cajun with curiosity. “Here, dig in!”

                “It seems divine, but,” Hank said scooting out his chair and starting to stand. “I don’t want to intrude…”

                “Don’t be ridiculous, mon ami! Please, sit…you should be here for dis too I t’ink. Please stay.”

                Hank sat down again nervously, blinking and Storm passed him one of the sugary squares. The two old friends exchanged looks, not quite sure what to expect next.

                “What’s going on?” Logan asked, pulling the man down beside him.

                The Cajun paused thoughtfully, looking at his hands a moment before answering; “Been t’inking a lot of about our trip lately.”

                Storm looked at him thoughtfully; “Have you changed your mind?”

                “Non, not at all. It just got me t’inking how dat place is so full of memories for me; dat city raised me up to be what I am. It’s part of me and I want to share dat with you…but before I do, I figure you oughta know the whole story. You're gonna hear things from people down there; things dat are only half-truths and some dat are complete lies. I want you to know de difference before hand.”

                He reached for Logan’s hand and squeezed it lightly in his; “You both saw me at my lowest; and somehow you love me anyway. I’ll be grateful to you both forever for what you done for me…but after what happened with Creed…I realize I shoulda told ya the truth from de start.”

                Logan frowned, knowing this guilt was stemming from his own actions, his own mistrust in Remy. That wound went deep, maybe too deep to really heal. “Rems, we trust you. You don’t—“

                His lover looked at him seriously, ruby eyes boring into his blue ones. _“ Especially_ you, mon amour. Sometimes, I feel like I tricked you into lovin’ me. All dose t’ings Victor said about me in de cabin; they were true. I _was_ part of de Thieves Guild; not just a member. Jean-Luc LeBeau, reigning King of de whole organization…he’s my father.”

                Both Storm and Hank looked up in new interest, but Remy’s eyes were still locked on Logan’s, who holding his hand tightly. “Thought you didn’t have family.”

                “Thanks to Sinister, I don’t. Jean-Luc was my _adoptive_ father…I never knew my real parents, my mother abandoned me at de hospital where I was born and I went to a Catholic foundling home until I was much older. After dat I bounced from foster family to foster family…no one want to keep little _Diable Blanc_ very long. People talk, people whisper. When I was about fifteen I ran away from my home at de time and Tante Mattie found me, brought me to Jean-Luc. He took me in as his own. First place I ever really felt wanted or loved. Den Sinister came into the picture a few years later….”

                He paused to gather himself, feeling their eyes on him. “When you found me, cher, I was hiding from him; just like I told you. I was cut off, couldn’t go to friends or family…he’d look for me dere, or he’d try to get to me through dem. So I was on my own, and I had…nothing. Especially after I escape de first time.”

                “Escape? You mean, Essex caught you before?” Hank asked.

                Remy nodded; “It was a choice den…I didn’t know what he had planned for me; what he wanted me to help him do. Thanks to him I was driven out of my home, I was stealing wallets and selling myself for food….” His face went red and his hands shook in Logan’s.

                The feral drew him in close; “Darlin’, you don’t need to do this. It's fine now…”

                “I do. For you, for Ro…you all need to know who de real Remy is, cause sometimes I can barely recall myself.” He steadied himself; "I want a clean slate. I'm done with secrets."

                Storm, who sat across from them reached for Gambit’s other hand and the man took hers in return and kissed it. “When did you first meet Sinister?”

                Gambit smiled; “Ah, cherie…dat is a good place to begin.”

 

***

 

_New Orleans, LeBeau Plantation, several years ago…_

                The grounds of the old Planation were bustling with activity. Summer was burning away in her last bright burst of golden glory, and the days were still hot and thick with humidity, but the nights were brought a reprieve from the glare of the sun.

                Party lights were strung from trees and garden lampposts to the edges of the of porch gutters, and twisted about sapling trees, making a canopies of warm, twinkling firefly lights, under which a crowd of people mingled, swayed and danced, lost in their private revelries.

                The guest list was comprised of many well-known Louisianan socialites, as well as high rollers and noted political figures, most personal friends of the home owner; Jean-Luc LeBeau. He was a man of prestige and old money; his family had owned the Plantation since the birth of New Orleans, and he could trace his lineage back more than three hundred years to his original roots in France.

                The family was always well liked, well thought of; sharing their wealth with the city around them, always building it up and tirelessly denoted to charities and non-profits for the betterment of its citizens. But Jean-Luc was one of the last of a dying line, it seemed. He had been married briefly in his youth, but divorced shortly after and never remarried. From this union he had two children; a boy named Henri, and a girl named Mercy. Mercy died young of a birth defect in her heart; many speculated that it was the primary source of the LeBeau’s divorce.

                But some years later, after a long bout of seclusion on Jean-Luc’s part, happiness blessed the house again with the arrival of a new member; an adoptive child named Remy. The young man breathed new life into the somber household, and after only a short time it became nearly impossible for anyone to guess that he wasn’t LeBeau’s own flesh and blood.

                Remy was the occasion for that evening’s celebration. The now twenty two year old man had just accomplished a rite of passage within the LeBeau clan; his first unaided theft for the Thieves Guild.

 

                Remy was shuffling cards between his fingers, letting the fine edges dance across his knuckles, floating, slowly collecting his energy signature, causing them to shimmer faintly. He glanced out across the crowded, table studded lawn at the swirling, smiling faces of his guests. Most of these people he’d never seen before in his life; they were old friends of the family, secret supporters of the Guild and their families; old blood, old money and mostly just…old.

                Honestly there was not a wealth of youth among them; Remy was undoubtedly the youngest member of the party. There were only a handful of people his age present, not counting his brother Henri, who was Remy’s senior by six years and was almost painfully proper and stoic in most situations. Henri was the model son; Remy was the wild card.

                The others were a gaggle of debutantes and other heirs of the Guild, who were either looking at Remy with one of two expressions; either they wanted to sleep with him, or they were bitterly jealous and dubious of his acceptance into their inner circles.

                He felt his father’s hand close over his, crushing the cards into his hands and causing them to crumble into ashes. “Try not to look so bored,” Jean-Luc suggested, winking at him over his shoulder. “It is _your_ party, after all.”

                “It’s _your_ party, Mon Pere,” the young auburn haired man answered, sighing and wiping the sweat off his forehead as the humidity around them continued on its deep low simmer. “Who a _re_ all dese people?”

                “You’ve met most of dem before,” the black haired man nodded; “Though I suppose they look a might different in dis light. Just remember yourself; these people are your family now as much as I am; show them gratitude and respect and they’ll do de same for you.”

                Remy nodded; “How about dat table over dere? Dey not Thieves; seen dem around town before. Ain’t dat de County Commissioner?

                Jean-Luc nodded and squeezed his shoulder lightly. “Oui. Dey’re _clients_ , mon fils. I expect you to be on your best behavior…in fact, let me deal wit dem.”

                Gambit shrugged and reached into the pocket of his grey suit jacket and pulled out a pair of wallets and a woman’s coin purse; “Den I guess you might want to be returning dese…”

                Jean-Luc snatched them from his hand; “ _Remy_ …now’s not de time.” He paused and glanced at them, “Did you take de cash?”

                “Non, all accounted for. I _might_ have memorized de card numbers though…” He grinned in that charming, sly way that made him completely irresistible and his father sighed. “Go on, off wit you; why don’t you dance wit someone? I’ve seen more den a few eyes on you tonight.”

                Remy’s eyes slid over the young women who were eyeing him from their table; each dressed to the nines, their hair done perfectly, their dresses expensive and revealing, hoping to catch the young bachelor’s ruby eyes.

                He could have spent all night charming them out of both their trust funds and their panties…but he wasn’t that sort of man. The girls were alluring enough, but none of these struck his interest. And the young men…even less so. They were all hungry and covetous looking; and even at a distance Remy’s Empathic abilities were picking up on their fears and desires…

                The multitude of feelings was intoxicating, leaving him unsteady and anxious. Stepping into that fray would surely end in embarrassment and disaster; for them of course. He was saving them the trouble by playing coy and aloof; the prize that was just out of reach.

                “Hey!”

                A familiar voice caught his ear and made him turn eagerly. The new arrival; tall, with rich dark skin and a head of short black hair that bore a bright white streak among it, came trotting towards him, his suit jacket tossed over one arm, tie dangling loosely from the open collar of his red silk dress shirt.

                Remy felt a rush of relief at the sight of Jericho Drumm, his close companion since his arrival in the LeBeau household and the closest thing Remy had to a best friend. “Hey! I’m sorry I’m late;” the broader, thicker man panted, taking out a tissue and dabbing at the sweat that was beading his face. “I totally lost track of the time, and I was working on my thesis…”

                Remy grabbed his hand and pulled him in close. “Kiss me, quick.”

                “What?”

                Gambit didn’t bother with further instruction; instead he simply braced the back of Jericho’s neck and pulled him for a rather passionate lip lock. Jericho gasped slightly against the man’s mouth, but relaxed a second later and pulled back, looking as if all of this was normal. “You wanna get outta here?” he asked huskily, leaning his forehead against Remy’s and putting a hand firmly at the small of his back.

                “You know it, cher,” Remy grinned, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the couple of young men who had been approaching them, who now stood off looking scandalized and confused. Remy gripped his hand and they slipped off around the garden hedges that surrounded the back porch, until they were obscured by the dark shade of the trees as they made their way into the kitchen side door.

                Slipping into the warm glow of the house, Gambit exhaled loudly, leaning against the door. “Merde, you don’t know how close dat was! One of dem was about to ask me to do shots with him and couldn’t stop t’inking about getting me to give him head…like I would strain my neck trying to suck dat little inbred weasel off.”

                Jericho stared at him, looking less than amused. “You gotta stop assuming you can just do that.”

                “Do what?” Remy asked, moving past him into the room, taking off his coat and dropping it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs that lingered by the large center island and cutting table, which was still covered in reserved food for the party.

                “The _kissing_ , Remy. You know some people take that contact as very personal.”

                The auburn haired man glanced back at him; “Sorry, mon ami. I was in a bind, didn’t t’ink you’d mind.”

                “Well, I do. What if I had brought a girl with me?”

                “Den I would have kissed both of you.” Remy winked.

                _“Remy…_ ”

                Gambit threw up his hands; “Alright, alright! I won’t do it no more, okay? I’m sorry.” He gave Jericho a long look; “Forgive me?”

                The dark skinned man threw up his arms in frustration and flopped into a chair, tugging at his tie. “Jesus, nevermind! You and that _look_ …” Remy grinned and grabbed a beer from inside the refrigerator for the two of them, opening his companions before handing it to him. “…how’s a guy supposed to stay mad? It ain’t fair, LeBeau. You know it ain’t fair.” He was smiling all the same, even under that rueful gaze. Of the two of them, Jericho had always been wiser, more level-headed and certainly more reserved than his counterpart. But perhaps that was what kept his interest and drew him in like a moth to a flame time and time again.

                Gambit sat down beside him and took a long drink from the green bottle, feeling the frosty bottle already begin to bead and sweat in his palm. “Wasn’t sure you’d show, know you’ve been tied up lately.”

                “I always got time for you,” Jericho answered. “It’s your big night; kinda like graduation as far as Thieves go, I guess. So what’s in store for you now? You gonna go on some big jewel heist? Maybe steal government secrets from some Russian spies?”

                Remy laughed; “Non…sure it will be something boring; like stealing back some family heirloom from some recently divorced politician with a sex tape scandal.”

                They both laughed again and clanked their bottles. “I’m sure Jean-Luc is setting it all up now; looking for the highest bidder.” There was a wistfulness behind his smirk; perhaps an air disappointment. “There goes my freedom.”

                Jericho rolled his eyes; “Oh come on, man…I hardly call jet-setting around the globe to exotic locations, stealing jewels, and technology, playing spy and secrete agent and getting _paid_ for it ‘losing your freedom’.”

                “Ain’t like dat, not all de time. You know dat. De Guild, dey got high expectations, and don’t forget dat ours ain’t de only Guild of Thieves in de world, nor even de US. Dere are rules, codes dat have to be followed, traditions upheld…it’s exhausting.”

                “You could always go straight;” Jericho said with a smirk.

                Remy laughed louder than he meant to and then leaned in close; “Hey…show me.”

                The darker man frowned, shaking his head. “Naw, Remy…”

                Gambit gripped his arm, looking at him with that bright hungry gaze and those strangely dazzling devil eyes, gleaming ruby and obsidian in the warm light of the kitchen. Jericho was helpless against that gaze. “Sil vous plait…show me de magic.”

                Drumm sighed, surrendering, and took the lighter from his pocket and lit it. Remy watched, rapt and focused, as Jericho began to make the tiny flame grow and rise, twisting and gaining power until it was standing an astonishing two feet tall, twisting into flickering shapes and figures.

                A moment later however he flipped the lid, extinguishing the flame abruptly, leaving them both blinking in the lingering thin veil of smoke and the scent of gas and embers. Remy was grinning ear to ear; “ _C’est magnifique_!” he cried, shaking his companion’s arm excitedly. “Even bigger den before! You must have been practicing!”

                “No,” Jericho muttered, stuffing the lighter away. “I haven’t.” he glared moodily across the room. “I keep trying to push it down, but it won’t stop.”

                “Why would you want it to?”

                The other man looked at him seriously; “Not all of us have gifts, Remy. Some of us have curses.”

                Gambit nodded faintly in understanding and moved in closer, leaning his head on the man’s broad shoulder, “Sorry you feel dat way, cher. I won’t ask you again.”

                “I’d appreciate that. Thank you.”

                He laid his head against Remy’s and tried to pretend that it didn’t make his heart twinge a little to do so. Remy was his best friend; but it was hard to remember that at times, when the young mutant made him feel so much and so strongly, all without meaning to. Jericho was almost grateful for the distance between them these days, with him so busy with college and Remy so busy with the Guild. _Almost_ glad.

                Gambit’s restless fingers tangled with his and played along his knuckles; “Don’t suppose a talent like dat helps much with passing your pysch finals, eh? Maybe some of dose Voodoo Charms would work better? I still got mine you gave me before the de job. Seems like dere must be some truth in dat old magic, whether you want to believe it or not.”

                Jericho leaned in and grabbed his chin, kissing him lightly. “Hush up, LeBeau.”

                “Thought you said no kissing?”

                “I like kissing your dumb lips. It’s the only way to shut you up.” He grinned and kissed him a little harder, and Remy gave in quickly, letting the bigger man pull him in. The sound of the door made them both jump and pull away with a gasp.

                A woman stepped inside, dark and wily, with a head of frizzy black hair that was wild and natural, maintained only by a thick orange and blue floral scarf she wore around her forehead. She was short and stout, with a round, kind face and eyes that looked older than the rest of her. She rolled them at the two young men, dropping the bags of food onto the counter top before storming towards them; “Dere you are!” she blustered, grabbing Remy and pulling him free from Jericho. “Guest of honor can’t be bothered to show his face at his own party! A party, I might add, I put a great deal of time an’ effort into, Remy LeBeau!”

                “Tante, I’m sorry, I only slip away for a moment,” Remy attempted, but the woman wasn’t going to be put off by his sweetness and excuses.

                “Save it for your Pere, chil’, believe me, he de only one who will listen to yo’ sweet talk! You get out dere and act like de gracious gentlemen dey expect to see. You keep your mischief for another time, understand me?”

                “Yes, Tante.” He leaned in and placed a loud, wet peck upon her cheek and darted back out the door, feeling her swat at him as he ran. The Creole woman watched him disappear under the dark eves of the trees before turning back to Jericho.

                “Dat chil’ gonna be de death of me,” she sighed, leaning against the counter and taking a moment to fan herself beneath the spinning shadow of the overhead fan. Her dark eyes wandered to the other man within the room; “As for _you_ ,…you ought to _know_ better by now.”

                “Mattie, I wasn’t doing anyt’ing…”

                She gave him another stern look and he faltered, staring at the floor tiles. She moved in, straightening his shirt and tie; “I know you love him, bebe. And believe me, it would do dis old woman’s heart a world of good to see him settle down wit someone sensible and good like you. But it ain’t in the cards, mon petite. You both destined for other paths.”

 

                “Where is dat boy?” Jean-Luc muttered, swirling his drink and skimming the crowd once more. Henri, tall and ginger-haired like his mother, with a broad nose and brown eyes looked up from his own drink with a shrug.

                “Gone off somewhere to catch a breath,” his oldest child answered thickly, “You know he hates things like this.”

                “Nonsense, dat boy has never shied away from being de center of attention…”

                Henri looked at his father seriously; “Not _dis_ kind of attention, Daddy. You know dis ain’t Remy’s scene. The bloodlines around here are older den most of these bottles of wine; and dey ask too many questions.”

                Jean-Luc knew of course that he was right; and he worried for a moment that he had rushed things; but it was too late to go back now. “Go and find him den; you’ve always been good at calmin’ his nerves.”

                “Who’s going to calm mine?” Henri asked, his eyes suddenly ahead. “Here comes Marius Boudreaux.”

                Jean-Luc felt ice rush through his veins and he stiffened, eyes narrowing as a the new guest made his way towards them.

“Jean-Luc, there you are. Quite the turn out…” the man speaking was a tall and broad with a thick mane of silvery hair that gave hints that it had once been ebony colored. He had a stern, severe face and a square jaw, and was broader in the shoulder than both LeBeau men put together. His expensively tailored suit only sought to exaggerate his physique, making his apparent age somewhat comically contrasted with his build.

                “Yes, well, it is a tremendous occasion for our family. Remy’s exceeded so many of our expectations, especially considering his late induction by the Guild. I’m glad we’re past all that nonsense now.” He eyed the man coolly over his glass.

                Marius Boudreaux chuckled, taking a glass of champagne for himself and sipping it carefully; “We are all very happy for young Remy; rest assured. I hope you don’t still resent me for my _concerns_ with his induction into the Guild. It wasn’t personal.”

                “Of course.”

                Marius turned his eyes to Henri, who was looking at him, stoned faced and hard-jawed. “You must be so very proud of your little brother, Henri. Following in your footsteps. I do hope you’ll provide some ample guidance for him as he continues to serve.”

                “Remy does whatever de hell he wants; M’sieur Boudreaux. Maybe his methods aren’t what you and your family have come to expect in a Thief; but you can’t argue with the results.”

                Boudreaux stiffened, gazing coldly over his drink at the other man, waiting for Jean-Luc to say something, but the man remained mute on the matter.

                “Results are not all that matter to the Guild. There are laws, traditions, expectations to be upheld. Remy is perhaps too young, too brash to fully appreciate this.” He glanced around then; “But where is our guest of honor? Perhaps it’s better I deliver my congratulations in person.”

                His eyes lit up then as Remy came trotting towards them, looking distracted and flushed. “Ah! The man of the hour!”

                The youth froze like a deer caught in high beams, blinking as he suddenly found himself swept into the fold with Marius Boudreaux’s beastly arm around his own shoulders, squeezing too tightly.

                “Remy! Truly you have surprised us all. Why don’t you tell us all how you did it then, eh? Breaking into Stark Industries is no easy task; it’s security system is rivaled perhaps only by the Pentagon’s latest defense measures. Yet you managed to make off with the blueprints of Stark’s latest upgrades to the Iron Man model, which I believe sold for a tidy sum of two million dollars in Madripoor…”

                Gambit could feel the man’s jealousy, his resentment. He thought Remy was unworthy of his title, unworthy of his position within the Guild, not just because he was not a direct descendant of Jean-Luc’s line, or even that Remy had bested Bordeaux’s own son out of the job; but because Remy was _wrong._ He was a mutant; unclean, unnatural. But he was helpless to cast Remy out; not while Jean-Luc retained control of the Guild.

                “It was actually three million.” Remy answered, shrugging out of Marius’s arm. “But I also gave a tip off to another interested party where dey might retrieve de information in question and made a tidy ten thousand under de table.” He grinned.

                There was a collective murmur that ran through the immediate crowd. Marius glowered down at the man beside him.

                “You sold out your own client?”

                “I didn’t say dat,” Gambit answered. “I gave de man exactly what he asked for; but we never discussed any exclusivity in de deal. Besides, Tony Stark is a man who has nearly as many secrets as de Guild itself. So who was I to turn down his offer of payment for information on his little project’s whereabouts?”

                Henri nearly spit out his Mint Julep; realizing the audacious cleverness of his brother’s strategy. “Did you _tell_ Stark you knew where his plans were?”

                “Of course not,” Remy answered. “He came to me.”

                “And how would he know to do that?”

                Remy only grinned that sly, elusive smile of his that ensnared and enticed everyone who saw it. “Ah-ah, M’sieur…I can’t give all my secrets away, now can I?”

                Marius sneered; “Do not confuse your unnatural abilities for cunning, Mr. LeBeau. One has nothing to do with the other.”

                Jean-Luc exhaled quietly and closed his eyes. He knew Marius had crossed the line.

                Remy’s smirk remained in place, but it was a bit colder now as he reached for his pocket and produced a handful of cards, which were already beginning to glow between his fingers. “You talkin’ about dis, M’sieur? My cards…”

                “Those cards are nothing but a crutch.”

                Remy let them flutter from his fingers, rising on their own, swirling around Bordeaux until he cringed, feeling the heat of their energy until Remy willed them to disperse as they exploded into bright burst of fuschia light.

                Brushing past them, the elder Guild member made to grab at Remy, who nimbly dodged his reach, smacking his hand away and flipping over his outreached arm, only to drag it behind Marius’s back and pin him forcefully against one of the tables, knocking over glasses of wine and splattering his face and suit in the process.

                “De power is in _me_ , M’sieur. Not de cards. But dat’s what scares you most, isn’t it?” the young man muttered.

                “Get him off me!”

                “Remy, enough,” Henri said, trying to pull Gambit back. Remy let go immediately, stepping aside, looking around the at the shocked crowd. What came next caused a ripple of warmth to pass through them, a sudden feeling that it had all been a jest, a joke, a prank. All Remy had to do was smile at them.

                “It’s alright, mon frere! No harm done! M’sieur Boudreaux, he’s a good sport. Aren’t you mon ami!”

                Marius looked at him a moment in bewilderment, feeling hazy, muddled. “O-of course…of course! Very impressive Remy!” He laughed, a little too loudly, a little too exuberantly. Anyone who had seen the interaction from start to finish would be unnerved. But the crowd only laughed along with him, as if suddenly drunk on this good feeling.

                Henri squeezed Remy’s arm. “Enough…”

                Gambit nodded, sagging a little and turning his back to the crowd, taking a deep steadying breath as he forced down his other power; his _Charm._

                There was a round of laughter then, followed by a applause from a singular source. Remy turned and noted a new face among the crowd, one he didn’t recognize at all.

                The man was pale, the kind of pale you didn’t see this deep in the south. His hair was like slick black ink, that dripped back from the high widow’s peak on his forehead and dripped down behind his ears to lie at the base of his neck. He wore a dark grey suit and black tie with a bright red ruby pin attached to it, and carried a well-polished walking stick, which he gripped with a glove hand.

                His face was elegant, sharply cut and strangely foreboding as much as it was attractive. He had meticulously groomed facial hair, the same ink black color, shaped into an artful goatee. His eyes were cold and sharp and strangely endless.

                He lifted himself from his chair and approached them, still clapping. “Remarkable, truly an impressive display!”

                All three LeBeau’s stared at the stranger, not quite knowing what to make of him.

                “Desole, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you before, M’sieur,” Jean-Luc said, moving protectively in front of his sons, extending his hand.

                The gloved stranger took it eagerly and shook it firmly; “Indeed we have not; M’sieur LeBeau. Forgive my forwardness; I’m Dr. Essex. I was referred to you by a friend of mine, a Mr. Augustus Silvermane?”

                Jean-Luc nodded, but looked no more at ease. “Ah, I see. Well, it is always a pleasure to meet any friend of Augustus, he has always been a great benefactor of our little organization. What brings you to our home dis evening?”

                The Doctor continued to smile in that strangely cold and elegant way, his gaze slowly moving from Jean-Luc to the younger man beside him. “I had hoped to speak with the Guild on a matter of urgent business. I do apologize for intruding on your private celebration, but…it appears the fates were conspiring in my favor.”

                Remy returned the man’s gaze with growing fascination. Having just used up what energy he had; he often found it difficult to shut himself off from the Empathetic energies of those around him. He could feel both his brother and father’s energies…but the man in front of him a was a void. Remy could sense nothing at all from him; no emotions, no desires, no memories…it was as if the man had shrouded himself in some way from his powers. Remy had never encountered anything like it.

                Essex seemed to read his expression and his smile changed from stiffly polite to one of genuine intrigue. “It’s not often I come across a mutant with such a varying range of talents as you have just displayed, my dear boy. It’s utterly fascinating.”

                Jean-Luc quickly closed ranks the moment the word “mutant” was uttered. “Dr. Essex, I would be more than happy to discuss business with you; but tonight is about my son. Might we discuss this matter more in depth tomorrow, say around lunch time?”

                “I think that sounds quite agreeable.”

                The pale man reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a black, embossed card, which he handed directly to Remy. “I look forward to getting to know you better, Remy.”

                “Merci, M’siuer.” Gambit nodded, looking down at the card in his hand as the Doctor turned away with a nod.

                “Try not to let that one go up in smoke!” he called back blithely.

                Beside him Henri shivered. “Ugh…creep.”

                “Non…” Remy mumbled, turning the card over in his hand; “I t’ink dis job is finally getting interesting.”

 

 

***


	2. Chapter 2

 

***

 

                Remy paced the parlor, shuffling his cards, slowly wearing a hole in the antique rug in the middle of the room. Two doors away, Jean-Luc was speaking to Dr. Essex privately in his study, while Remy waited for an audience with the man in person.

                Henri sat on the velvet love seat beneath the window, sipping his coffee and attempting to read; but he was constantly distracted by his siblings ceaseless movements. Finally he sat down his cup, a little too loudly, causing the porcelain to clank and chip and glowered at the youth.

                “Will you _stop_? You’re driving me insane!”

                The younger man glared back at him; “Den go read your book somewhere else! No one keepin’ you here but you.”

                “You’re tense,” Henri replied, more evenly this time. “Clients don’t like that. It makes them think you’re squeamish, or that you’re up to something. They want to feel like they can trust you implicitly with all the dirty little details…you’ve got to make them believe you will give them full discretion.”

                “Seems a bit hypocritical,” Remy muttered.

                “Of course it is, but that’s not the point. If a client doesn’t feel he can trust you, he’ll turn around and vanish right under your nose. And depending on how seedy he is; you may live to regret it.”

                Gambit glanced towards open French doors and down the hall towards the closed door of their father’s private room. “How seedy do you t’ink dis guy is?”

                Henri frowned; “I don’t like the look of ‘im. Not a bit. I especially don’t like de way he looked at _you_ de other night. Like you were somethin’ ripe for the pickin’.”

                Remy rolled his eyes; “Plenty o’ men look at me dat way, mon frère. Never seem to concern you before.”

                The ginger haired man looked at him with a measured gaze; “I trust you to handle yourself; but dat don’t mean I don’t _worry_ , Remy. You’re my little brother…I don’t take kindly to the idea of someone taking advantage of you.”

                “You worry too much,” Remy offered, warmed by his brother’s concern. Herni had always been good to him, but he wasn’t a man who often spoke his feelings openly. “Besides, dis one ain’t like some of de others…not just some rich pervert looking for a cheap thrill. He’s different.”

                “Different how?”

                “I couldn’t sense anyt’ing from ‘im. It was like…steppin’ into a dark room after staring into the sun. Never felt like dat around no one before; I always get some kind of readin’ some kind of energy, or feeling from dem. It felt…nice.”

                Henri looked more unsettled than before; and expression that aged him another ten years. “Do you t’ink he’s…like you?”

                “Mutant? Maybe…” He let his cards fly from hand to hand for a few moments before letting them fall back neatly into a stack and tucked them into the pocket of his jeans before they could collect too much energy. “I’ll find out, one way or another I suppose.”

                The door of the study opened and both men froze expectantly as Jean-Luc and the man named Essex emerged. Henri excused himself quickly as they approached the parlor and Remy drew in a deep breath to steady himself.

                “Remy,” his father began, “Doctor Essex and I have discussed a tentative arrangement; should you be willing to accept.”

                “Of course I accept,” he answered, a little too quickly, eyes on the long haired stranger, who was dressed in dark grey pin stripes and wearing a black cravat that was studded with the same diamond shaped ruby pin as yesterday.

                Essex smiled at him; “The eagerness of youth; it’s difficult to find anything to compare. But I want to give you full discloser before we begin; Mr. LeBeau. Time is a factor; and I cannot afford any last minute faint-heartedness.”

                Remy nodded; “Of course not, M’sieur. What is it you require of me?”

                “I have been studying human genetics and evolution for a great many years; my research is my life. I relocated to the states a few years ago to partner with another geneticist on a rather expansive project that has consumed my attention; the X-gene.”

                “You’re studying mutant evolution?” Remy asked.

                “Yes; it’s become my life’s work. I’ve gathered extensive data on the phenomenon of human mutation; expanding on the work done by geniuses such as Bolivar Trask and even Charles Xavier.”

                The names were empty to Remy, but Jean-Luc seemed to stiffen at the mention of Trask.

                “Unfortunately, as you know, there are a great many people who would, out of ignorance and bigotry, seek to impede, perhaps even destroy my research. A week ago, my lab was raided, and valuable documents were stolen from me. It’s taken me some time, but I’ve managed to locate them once more. What I require from you, Mr. LeBeau, is their retrieval.”

                “So you need a thief to catch a thief, as it were.” Remy answered.

                “Indeed. Are you up to the task, young man?”

                “Dat depends…who was it dat stole your research in de first place?”

                “A covert government organization known only as ‘Weapon X’,” the dark eyed man answered, his voice grave and ominous. “I’m sure I needn’t express to you how dangerous and difficult your task it, considering the implications of this. You mustn’t be caught by these people, Remy. Fines and imprisonment will be the very least of your worries if you are.”

                Jean-Luc shook his head then; “I’m afraid I’m going to have to stop this here, Doctor. Remy is simply too young; too raw. I have other members who are vastly more experienced in this kind of work—“

                “I’ll do it.”

                Essex raised an eyebrow in surprise and smiled brighter, while Jean-Luc looked harrowed by the declaration. But Remy looked at him resolutely, squaring his shoulders. “I want de job, Mon Pere.”

                “Remy, non.”

                “None of de other Thieves can do what I do; and you know it. You’re afraid dat because I’m a mutant, I’ll be in more danger…but we both know I am de only one who could walk out of dere whether dey see me or not.”

                Jean-Luc’s lips were a thin grey line beneath his dark mustache and Remy could feel his frustration, his fear welling up behind his stoic features. But the elder LeBeau was a man of grace and composure; and he was not about to falter in front of a client such as this one.

                Remy looked back to Essex, “Has a price been discussed?”

                “I’m willing to pay you fifty thousand for the safe return of my research. And your total discretion, of course.”

                “Make it a hundred.” The auburn haired youth replied.

                Jean-Luc balked; “Remy--!”

                “You’re paying for my special talents;” Remy interjected, staving off his father’s objection. “Dat _is_ why you gave me your card, isn’t it M’sieur? You weren’t looking for just any thief…you wanted a mutant. And dere ain’t no where else you gonna find it. Am I right?”

                Throughout the entire interaction, he had been slowly letting down the barriers he’d constructed in an attempt to keep his empathetic Charm at bay. They were weak perhaps, but they did the trick. He noted the way that Sinister’s eyes rarely left his face, and that even when Jean-Luc interrupted, the man’s attention didn’t waiver for him. Remy knew he had him snared…yet he felt somehow entranced as well. Other than his body language, he still gave no further insight to his feelings, his true intentions. That wall of silence remained firmly in place.

                “How very correct you are, Mr. LeBeau.” His smile widened a little, and as it did Remy noticed how his eyes seemed to deepen, glinting faintly with what Remy guessed was excitement. It sent a little thrill through his stomach that resonated down his spine and into his toes. It was almost like someone was walking over his grave.

                “But before we make this arrangement official…I would like to see your talents in action. A demonstration, if you would be so obliged.”

                Remy gave a little bow, letting his own devilish grin creep across his lips. “But o’ course, M’sieur. I am always ready to impress.”

                Jean-Luc turned and made towards the doors, glancing behind him for a moment before turning down the lights and shutting them behind him.

                Gambit ushered the Doctor to take a seat in one of the arm chairs as he pulled his cards from his pocket once more and began to shuffle them slowly through his fingers. “What is it you heard about me, M’sieur?”

                Essex smiled congenially at the youth as he leaned on his palm, observing him with those same endless, hungry eyes. “What makes you believe I have heard anything about you, my boy?”

                “You show up on our door step, unannounced, in de middle of a party, which I assume you had no knowledge about. Hardly de etiquette of a purely business minded man…you came hoping to catch a glimpse of me; to see if whatever rumors you heard were true. Dat Jean-Luc’s boy, _Le Diable Blanc_ …he got a gift…or a curse. Dependin’ on de way you look at it.”

                “And you didn’t fail to catch my eye, Remy.” He answered. “Tell me; what are your powers, exactly?”

                Gambit only answered with a smile and turned his attention to his cards; allowing them to do the talking for him.

                Essex watched as Gambit began to manipulate them with increasing speed and ease, noting that each touch caused the coated cardboard to become steadily more and more illuminated, gleaming with bright magenta light. Within a few seconds, Remy barely needed to touch the cards at all, manipulating their artful movements through the air with just the brush of a fingertip or the flick of his wrist. They began to levitate and rise, glowing more and more brilliantly before the young mutant flung them towards his audience.

                Essex flinched, only slightly as the cards encircled him in a spinning whirl before rising above his head and exploding in a bright pop of ash and smoke that rattled the glass on the windows and caused other objects to stutter and quiver on their pedestals.

                “Fascinating…where do you collect the energy source?”

                “Comes from inside,” Remy answered; “it’s part of me; always been. Don’t know what it is exactly, but all it takes is a little focus and a touch…” His hand began to glow faintly as he let the energy collect there, then allowed it course and shift to his other palm as well. With concentration, he let rush up and down his skin until he seemed completely illuminated from the within, his strange red and black eyes suddenly bright and gleaming; the same jeweled color the energy inside.

                Remy held it as long as he could, watching his client’s rapt expression of wonder with a grin. But he could feel his fingers start to tremble and his control begin to slip. Quickly he produced another card from and clapped his hands together, allowing swell of energy to release into it. It exploded in his hand with a thunderclap and Remy struggled to keep his footing for a moment, feeling dizzy and momentarily drained.

“Marvelous, Remy! Controlled molecular acceleration! Kinetic energy! Such a rare mutation; I’ve only seen it once, perhaps twice before.”

                “You like my little light show,” Remy grinned, quickly composing himself. “But dat’s only de opening act, M’sieur.” He removed his jacket, the fabric still sizzling with the lingering remains of his charge and moved in closer to Sinister, all his walls and restraints down, his Charm coursing from him at unchecked levels.

                He still could not feel Essex’s emotions; but standing directly in front of him now made it easy to read the growing expression of desire in his eyes. Tentatively, the man’s gloved hand reached up and brushed itself along Remy’s hip, moving slightly down his thigh.

                “Mmm…” the man sighed, shifting a little in his chair and staring up at Remy, his smile changing from sly and mysterious to openly lustful. “What do you call this? It’s not hormone, nor pheromone manipulation….some kind of inducement trance, or hypnotic call…?”

                “Maybe it’s just my winning personality.” Remy purred, allowing the older gentlemen to pull him down to straddle his lap. Remy studied his face, staring into his eyes, trying to get a read off him, trying to push through that wall of blackness that separated him so completely. “Dey always told me I was a Charmer…dat I could make de wind change if I smiled nice enough…got dis effect on people; lets me connect wit dem in ways others can’t. Make dem feel good, make dem feel happy, wanted, loved…whatever it is dey is wanting most.”

                Essex’s hands were on his back, moving slowly up and down, feeling the firm muscle under the too thin fabric of his shirt. The touch was inquisitive, hungry…possessive. Remy shuddered a little under the strange teasing intensity of it, feeling the cool silk texture of the doctor’s gloved fingers as they moved along the exposed skin of his neck and arms.

                There was nothing for him to latch onto, no hidden desire to decode, no compass to guide him and reveal whether the man beneath him was everything he claimed. There was only the wall, which seemed now like an ocean of muffled, black night, slowly pulling him further into its depths, searching for some glimmer of light.

                Remy was close, too close. One of the Doctor’s hands was on his thigh, the other was curled around his neck. The man’s lips were just a breath from his. “What are you?” Remy whispered.

                “You already know.”

                The words seemed to send Remy sinking back into the darkness, momentarily helpless and disoriented. He felt Sinister’s lips brush his, then move at once to his neck. He felt the scrape of teeth along his vein. For a moment Remy half expected to feel the prick of fangs on his skin. But he shook himself from the strange spell and suddenly moved away, quickly crossing the room and putting his back to Doctor Essex as he wrapped his arms around himself, trying to reign in his power.

                Behind him, Sinister began to compose himself, his breathing slowly becoming more calm and regular, and Remy heard him shift uncomfortably in his chair again. “That was…” he fumbled, taking a moment to straighten his tie and exhale deeply; “…you’re an Empath. And Empath with a secondary mutation…amazing. Absolutely amazing.”

                Remy grinned at him over his shoulder, hoping the dimness of the room would mask the paleness and the sweat that was beading his forehead after the expenditure of so much energy. “Told you; dere ain’t no one can do what I do. Believe me, I’ve looked. You give me de job, M’sieur…I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

                “I agree.” He stood, making his way over to Remy, who tried to look away and escape him, but the man put his hand firmly at the small of his back and pulled him in. “You’re shaking…” he noted, sounding strangely intrigued rather than concerned. “You’re used to repressing your powers, keeping them hidden. When you finally let go…it almost tears you apart, doesn’t it?”

                Remy wondered how he could know this. He licked his lips dryly, wishing he could look away from the man, but finding himself trapped. It was not an altogether unpleasant feeling…but something in the back of his mind was telling him it was wrong.

                “My powers got a mind of dere own…sometimes, yes…I get overwhelmed. But I can manage. I always manage.”

                Essex tucked a loose wisp of hair back behind his ear. “Of course you do.” He grinned, leaning in a bit closer, eyes boring into Remy’s. “But your Charm must allow you certain opportunities…perhaps, once this transaction is complete…I could teach you to put it to better use. Though I imagine it has helped quite a bit with your cover as a high-class escort.”

                Remy blinked, startled and suddenly jerked away from the dark eyed man. “H-how did you know about dat?”

                “It’s far from a secret, my boy. You were right when you said I had heard about you. In fact, I have been researching you rather thoroughly before I decided to come and find you for myself. You’ve posed as an escort for several very wealthy, very powerful men in the last two years; all of which became benefactors of rather mysterious and fortunate business acquisitions during your acquaintance with them.”

                Gambit frowned, now feeling shaken. “I don’t like being spied on, M’siuer. Nor lied to.”

                Essex laughed; “I’m sorry if I mislead you, Remy. I had to be sure you were the real thing; you’d be surprised how many people are able to mimic or create the illusion of having powers like ours.”

                “Ours? So you _are_ a mutant.”

                Essex paused thoughtfully; “I am a self-made man, Mr. LeBeau. Let us leave it at that. Now; do we have a deal?”

                Remy hesitated, looking at the man’s outstretched hand. He wasn’t sure he trusted the man…in fact, he was sure he didn’t. But he’d heard of Weapon X, and their experiments on people like him. The opportunity to throw a wrench in the cog of that evil government machine was too good to pass up.

                He gripped Essex’s palm in his and squeezed; “Congratulations, M’sieur. _Gambit_ ; at your service.”

 

***

 

                The beignets were nearly gone; the ones that remained were cold and had lost most of their sugar coated luster. Remy didn’t look at anyone, not directly. He sipped his coffee and waited. He could feel it, the heaviness in the space between his words.

                Logan still sat close beside him, both elbows on the table, hands folded and pressed thoughtfully against his lips as he had been listening. He looked uncomfortable, pensive, but remained silent.

                “Strange that he didn’t reveal himself as a mutant right away,” Ro said thoughtfully. “I would have imagined he would want to use that bond to pull you in.”

                “Being a telepath, I don’t imagine he needed to. He could already see into Remy’s mind, all the advantages he needed were there for the taking.” Hank answered, then blushed faintly. “I’m speaking practically of course…anyone with even the slightest thread of decency and a conscience would have restrained themselves from doing so. I can’t say it surprises me that Sinister displayed neither.”

                “Would it have changed your mind?” Storm asked; “if you had known he was a telepath?”

                “Non,” Remy said at length. “Not then. I hadn’t met many mutants before, and the idea that one could use his powers against me never occurred to me. Naivety, at its best I suppose. And to be completely honest…he intrigued me. He felt dangerous and,” he licked his lips, trying to smile but failing somewhat. “I like that.”

                His eyes shifted to Logan, waiting for some response.

                “Cher?”

                “He wanted you to steal from Weapon X. He was practically sending you into a death trap. What was it he wanted back so badly?”

                “Turned out to be a book; a journal. All sorts of notes on evolution, experiments he’d done, drawings of different mutants and their anatomy…practically an instruction manual on how to create a mutant from scratch.”

                Hank looked shocked; “My God…this sort of information in the hands of people like Stryker and Bolivar Trask? I shudder to think. It’s almost more horrible than idea of Sinister himself having such knowledge. Remy, what did you do with the book?”

                Gambit sat back in his seat and produced one of his ever-handy cards and let it go up in flames in his fingers. “Burned it.”

                His companions stared at him, each expression reading somewhat differently. “You…you destroyed it?” Hank gasped. “All that knowledge, all that potential…you just burned it?”

                “Somet’ings are too dangerous to let lie, mon ami. The t’ings I saw in that compound…dey made me realize what sorta man Essex must be. I didn’t want no part of dat. In fact, de night I broke into the compound; something must have gone wrong wit one of deir experiments…I had found the book, but I wasn’t careful enough and I triggered some kind of security protocol. Thought I was done for, to be honest, had soldiers baring down on me and nowhere to go…but den all dese other alarms were goin’ off everywhere and I got away in de chaos. You’da thought they were being attacked by an army, but it was one person they were trying to take down. Never got a good look at ‘im…but he was cleaving his way through them like a knife through hot butter. So much blood…”

                Logan suddenly stood up and excused himself from the table, leaving them blinking in his wake.

                “Logan? Logan!” Remy chased after him, but the feral wouldn’t stop until they were well out of ear shot of the other two.

                “Cher? What’s wrong, talk to me—“

                “It was me.” The dark haired man muttered, dragging Remy into the nearest empty room.

                “Quoi? Logan, you don’t—“

                “You were in Canada, weren’t you? There’s a compound, deep in the mountains, practically off the map, there aren’t even any conventional roads up that way. You would have had to have been flown in, or hade a guide. I’m guessing the latter.”

                Gambit was speechless, eyes wide.

                “The mutant you saw…I know you said you didn’t get a good look...but was he wearing a helmet? Tubes, wires everywhere?”

                Remy felt the wind go out of him. “Mon Dieu…”

                Both men stood staring in the silence for a moment, startled by this twist of fate. Logan began to pace; “So Stryker had Sinister’s book…he was probably using it as a blue print. That must have been the source of it all; what finally gave him the formula to make their crack-pot experiments work.”

                “Cher…if I had known; I would have--”

                Logan pulled him in and held him tight. “You saved me.”

                “What? All I did was save my own skin; I left you on your own to fight dose people. I hardly call dat savin’…”

                “No darlin’…you bought me time I might not have had. When I came out of that vat…I was out of my mind, killing anything in front of me. The animal took over; I wasn’t Logan anymore, I couldn’t think, I just knew I had to escape. If you hadn’t divided their attention, I’d probably have been overwhelmed, dragged back to that tank had my mind completely wiped. I’d be lost.”

                “I should have staid, I should have tried to help you…”

                Wolverine looked at him seriously, catching his face between his palms. “I’m glad you didn’t. Remy, if you had tried to approach me, I would have gutted you just like all the others.”

                Gambit knew of course that this was true and the idea made him feel a bit sick. Logan leaned up and kissed him and Remy gave over quickly, feeling Logan’s relief and gratitude washing over him.

“You keep coming up with new ways to make me fall in love with ya, Cajun. How’s a man supposed to keep up with it?”

A few moments later there came a knock on the door and Storm and Hank appeared.

                “Everything alright?” Ro asked, eyes roaming between the two.

                “We’re good. Sorry for the dramatic exit,” Wolverine amended.

Hank glanced at his watch; “I’m afraid I’m going to have to continue this later, Remy; Charles and I have an appointment.”

Gambit nodded, but as Hank turned to leave he added; “I’ll be back this afternoon…why don’t we all meet in my rooms, and we can pick up where we left off. If that’s alright with you, Remy?”

The Cajun nodded and Hank hurried off with another quick goodbye. Storm turned to her men; “The facility you raided was the one Logan was being held at; wasn’t it?”

“Small world I guess,” Wolverine nodded.

Storm reached out and hugged Remy hard, surprising him. “I’ve _seen_ that facility; it’s a miracle you got out in one piece. Sinister sent you into a trap.”

“Non,” he answered; “I don’t t’ink he did. He was very adamant on getting that book back; in fact, he was desperate. I believe he really thought I was de only one who could help him, and having me captured by de government wouldn’t have benefited him.”

“Sounds right to me,” Logan nodded. “Sinister is a motherfucker, but he doesn’t seem interested in letting humans get their hands on his secrets. He’s too afraid they would be used against us.”

“Well,” Ro sighed, “he isn’t wrong, I fear.”

Logan made himself comfortable on the edge of the desk, next to Gambit and gazed thoughtfully across the empty class room. “So, we know you made to Weapon X and that you escaped with Sinister’s book…but you didn’t give it back to him. Is that when he nabbed you?”

“Non; ‘fraid it weren’t nearly so simple as dat. And de book, well…turned out it wasn’t as important to him as getting his hands on somethin’ else.”

 

***


	3. Chapter 3

***

 

                It was seventy-three degrees that night in Louisiana, but Remy couldn’t shake the deep Canadian cold from his bones. But the chill of what he had seen in that awful place ran even deeper. He soaked in the old claw foot tub; something he hadn’t done in years, and let the steam of the hot water make him sleepy and dizzy as it sought to undo the stressed muscles in his back, arms and legs.

                There came a knock on the door that startled him and he sat up with a gasp, water sloshing as Tante Mattie stepped into the room, carrying clean towels and his robe.

                “Tante!” he shrieked. “I’m not decent!”

                The woman shrugged her shoulders; “Ain’t nothin’ this old woman hasn’t seen before. Calm yerself down, you’re getting water everywhere.”

                Remy burrowed lower in the milky water of the tub, scowling out her; “I’m not a _child_ , ya know…can’t be just bustin’ in here whenever you please…crazy ol’ woman…”

                She cracked him over the head with a back scrubber. “Hush your mouth! Don’t you dare disrespect me, _little boy._ I will put a world of hurt on you, and you know I can.” She pulled up a stool beside him and tugged at his arm, “Let me see dat now.”

                A bullet had grazed him when he had been fleeing from the facility; some of the soldiers still had the presence of mind to realize that the skinny youth with the black and red eyes dressed in the purple and black cat suit _probably_ didn’t belong there.

                “It’s fine, Tante, just a scratch…ain’t even deep.”

                “It burns t’ough, I imagine.”

                “Like fire, yeah,” Remy admitted, finally giving over to the fact that woman wasn’t leaving. Her hair was tied back with a green scarf today, and she had braided and smoothed her hair while he’d been gone. It made her look younger, though she still possessed that motherly presence that defined her so well.

                “You worried dis poor old woman. Wish your daddy had never agreed to let you take dis job.”

                “It’s over now, done wit, not to worry.”

                She gave him a long careful look that told Remy otherwise, and he looked at her seriously in the hazy golden light of the antique bathroom. “You saw somet’ing?”

                The woman bit her lip. Mattie Baptiste possessed gifts of her own; the power of clairvoyance and a healing touch. Remy never considered her gifts like his own; she was magic and ancient, something from the old world. Her gifts were those handed down from the past; his were a sign of the future.

                She pushed his hair out of his face, scrubbing her palm across his cheek. Her skin smelled like spices and coconut oil and almonds. “Bebe, I want you to be careful ‘round dis man, dis Doctor Essex. He’s old Remy…old like me. And that kind of age can breed wickedness and cleverness…of which you’d be no match.”

                “More den dat…I can’t feel anyt’ing when I’m around ‘im. Like he’s empty inside; hollow somehow.”

                This made the woman beside him frown even more as she washed his wound and rubbed something into it, muttering something in old Creole that even he had a hard time deciphering. But a moment later the burn of the wound ceased, replaced by a cooling numbness.

                “He’ll be waitin’ for ya tonight, to collect his prize. After dat, bebe, you send him on his way and shut de door tight. Don’t let dat devil back in here, I fear he won’t ever leave.” She hugged his neck and kissed his forehead and drew something on his palm, muttering some spell of protection.

                Remy knew whatever she had seen must have frightened her badly to do this, so he was patient and let her finish. She left his towel and robe on the stool and then excused herself, allowing him to lift himself out of the tub and dry off.

                He pulled the robe around himself and padded over to the window, looking out across the lawn towards the long gravel drive that lead up to the old house. He saw a the low yellow gleam of headlights in the purple mist of twilight as a black Buick rolled up the lane, it’s windows tinted enough that he couldn’t see the driver.

                But Remy knew exactly who was inside. He shut the blinds again quickly and made for the door, needing to dress himself quickly. He raced into his room and began to pull on his clothes, glancing at the small black leather ledger that was lying on his bed.

                All he had to do was give the book to Essex. The money would be his and the association would be dissolved. He’d never have to think about it again. But after what he had seen at the facility; he wasn’t sure he could just let it go.

                His mind flashed back to room he had stumbled upon, the room full of status tubes, filled with eerie glowing liquid and bodies of creatures…Remy had no idea if they were human, mutant, or alien, or possibly some combination. All he knew was that being in that room made his blood run cold, and the hairs on back of his neck stand on end. That facility was a place of horror and misery, and the people there were masterminding something unspeakable.

                He thought of his flight through the labyrinth of corridors, narrowly missing being caught or shot twice. He thought about how, book in hand, he had tumbled scrambled through an air vent and fallen through the other side, only to land on a platform, overlooking a frantic scene. A naked man, screaming and howling like a beast, was raging against a surge of soldiers who were trying to subdue him. All around him equipment was sparking or lying scattered in broken pieces, bodies were piling up, both those of guards and others in lab coats.

                The creature had looked up at him, teeth bared, face obscured by some sort of helmet and visor that seemed to be clamped down around his skull. It was in this moment of transfixion that Remy had allowed the bullet to graze him. He had regained his wits only just in time, throwing a volley of cards at his assailants to keep them at bay before allowing his kinetic charge to spread along the wall of computers, causing an explosion that rippled through the room and filled it with smoke.

                Remy had lost track of the strange man in the helmet, but the disturbing image staid in his mind even as he finally broke free from the building and managed to make his way across the yard, gun fire peppering the snow behind him, before he was able to decimate the electrified fence with another volley of cards and escape.

                His hair still dripping at the nape of his neck, Remy plucked the book up from his bed and turned it over in his hands. What was inside that was so valuable? It seemed like any recent or relevant research that a place like Weapon X would need would be found on a hard drive…not in some cracked leather binding with yellowing pages.

                He shouldn’t open it, he reasoned. It was none of his business. Essex might consider it a violation of their contract…but Remy couldn’t resist.

                He opened the cover and began to flip through the crisp, slightly wrinkled pages. The neat script, written in old fading ink flashed before his eyes. They were notes; theories, equations and formulas, most of which meant little to the Cajun.

                But he began to notice the dates written at the top of the pages; they dated back to years long past, to eighteen sixty two…yet they all seemed to be written and penned by the same person.

                Tante was right. Essex was old; older than his great, great grandfather. Remy wondered if it was the same sort of magic that kept Tante young and living…but he somehow doubted it. He faintly heard the din of voices downstairs, and he thought he heard someone call his name. But he continued on, entranced.

                Names were appearing; names of subjects. People Essex had experimented on; many which included very detailed drawings of the subject’s portraits…and then, as the pages went on…there were other drawings. Other notes; which depicted autopsy procedures; time and manner of death. Drawings of dissected torso’s, arms, legs, organs…

                All the subjects were mutant. There was a woman with cat eyes and fangs…later Remy saw that same eye drawn independently of its owner’s skull. There was a child who appeared bat-like, including an upturned nose, pointed, elongated ears and thin skin flaps beneath his chubby arms. The same wings appeared later, freshly rendered from the child’s corpse.

                Remy dropped the book, hands shaking. These were not the words, the depictions of a man of science, bound to better the mutant race. These were the letters of a man possessed, driven mad by a pursuit of understanding. A veritable Dr. Frankenstein.

                “Remy? Remy, are you dressed? We have a guest.” Jean-Luc’s voice called.

                “Un instant s’il vous plait!” Remy replied absently, trying to collect himself. What could he do? He couldn’t turn this book of horrors back over to Essex, not knowing what he would do with it. But The Guild…Remy couldn’t go back on his agreement; not now. Such an offense so early after his induction would mean serious repercussions, and not even Jean-Luc could save him from what the other members of the council would decide.

                 
                Outside his door Jean-Luc tried the knob again; “Remy? What on earth has gotten into you? Don’t keep your client waiting—“ He forced open the door, picking the lock all too easily, just in time to see Remy close the smoldering covers tight, extinguishing the bright glow of his flame. The room was filled with the smell of burning parchment.

                Jean-Luc flew at him before the youth could speak and struck him hard and fast across the face, knocking Remy into the wall. “What have you done!?” he hissed, looking from Remy’s started and now bruised face to the smoking ledger on the floor.

                “Desole, you don’t know what was in dat book--!”

                “It’s not my _job_ to know what’s in that book; and neither is it yours! He’s come to collect, I assured him you had his prize, and now you do this!? Of all the impulsive, stupid--!”

                “He experiments on mutants!” Remy shouted, pushing the other man back. “ _That_ ’swhat is research is! He collects mutants, experiments on them, rips them open to see what makes them tick! He’s been doing it for _centuries_ Mon Pere! I cannot give dis to him, I _won’t!_ Not after what I saw in dat place, I refuse!”

                For a moment Jean-Luc said nothing, simply staring at him with an expression of muted rage and growing regret. He turned away from Remy, scrubbing his hand across his face, smoothing the lines of his mustache nervously. “Are you certain?”

                “I read it myself, in de man’s own words.”

                “Is there a problem?”

                Both men looked up in surprise as Essex appeared in the door way of the bedroom, looking from one to other with an expression of concern. Henri was right behind him, looking exasperated and ready to club the man to death.

                “I tried to keep him downstairs but—“

                “It’s fine, Henri,” Remy said, bending to pick up the remains of the charred book, which he in turn presented to the Doctor. “I apologize, M’sieur. I’m afraid dat I was about to retrieve your research; but I had to destroy it.”

                The Doctor studied the burnt leather and blackened pages in Remy’s hands for a moment, taking them and opening it with care. Some of the notes had survived, but most were burned away or left blackened and unrecognizable. “You must have felt very strongly to do so, young man. I trust then you read and understood the content of this journal?”

                “Oui,” Remy muttered. “What you did to dose people ain’t right. You been doin’ it for a long time, and I can’t be de one dat helps you keep doin’ it. You can keep your money; M’sieur Essex. It’s covered in blood.”

                The three LeBeau men held their breathes, waiting for a reaction. They were uncertain whether to expect violence or threats, or some other form of outrage and retribution. But all they got was a smile, which quickly bubbled into laughter. The sound was so strange, so out of place within the tension filled room that it was wholly unsettling.

                “He’s crazy…” Henri muttered, and Essex’s cane came back and struck him in the shin, making him yelp. The Doctor moved away from the door, ledger in hand and tossed the remains into the open hearth of Remy’s fireplace, where it crumbled into scraps and ashes. “Calm yourselves, gentlemen. The time for drama has passed; Mr. LeBeau, your outrage is amiable but misplaced. That book belonged to my great grandfather; Nathaniel Essex the first, of London. Or did you fail to see the dates on the pages?”

                Remy didn’t budge, still glaring down the elegant dark haired man who stood so brazenly in the middle of his bedroom floor, like he belonged there. But Jean-Luc and Henri were now looking somewhat nervously at Remy, waiting an answer.

                “I fully admit that the content of that ledger is somewhat disturbing. You have to understand that scientific advancement of that age was often shrouded in dubious practices, made so by the fact that the general populace was still so grotesquely superstitious and God-fearing that it was almost impossible for them to accept the idea of advancement. Luckily, people like my forebears, knew that public opinion cannot be the deciding factor in all things.”

                “You said dis was _your_ research; you never mention dat it was a family heirloom.”

                “I didn’t believe that was important detail. And it _is_ part of my research; or rather, what sparked my desire to study the evolution of the X-gene.”

                “I’m sorry M’sieur,” Jean-Luc said moving forward then. “I believe there has been a terrible misunderstanding. As you can imagine such material would be rather sensitive to my son; it would have been wise for you to have disclosed these details to us.”

                “Perhaps. But no matter,” he reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a check, which he handed to Remy. “As agreed.”

                Gambit gawked at him for a moment; “I don’t understand M’sieur…”

                “You returned what was stolen from me, my boy, precisely as promised. That you burned the notes was unexpected…but of little consequence. My concern was that the information inside would be used by the Weapon X scientist to do harm to mutants. And you, Remy, have prevented that.”

                “But I…”

                Jean-Luc took the check himself and nodded graciously to Essex; “You’re too kind, Dr. Essex. I do hope you’ll forgive Remy for his impulsiveness.”

                “Forgive?” the man chortled, raising a dark brow. “I quite enjoyed it.” He looked at Remy a bit more carefully, seeing the way the man’s face was still flushed with rage and embarrassment. “In fact, if you don’t still believe me to be too much of a villain, dear man, I should like to treat you to dinner, as my way thanking you; and to show my gratitude for the danger you placed yourself in.”

                Gambit glanced from Essex to Jean-Luc, who was silently urging him to accept, to Henri, who remained in the doorway, shaking his head frantically.

                “I…will have to think on it, M’sieur.”

                Essex smiled, “Of course. I’ll call on you tomorrow then.” He stepped little closer and ran his gloved hand down Remy’s arm, fingers briefly fluttering over the exposed wound there. “Get some rest tonight, Remy. You’ve earned it.”

                He nodded to Jean-Luc, who turned to show him out. The moment the two men were out of the door and moving down the hall, Remy dropped back on the bed, head in his hands. “What…what just happened?”

                “You narrowly missed de noose, dat’s what happened!” Henri hissed, coming beside him. “You hit your head or somet’ing on dat mission!? What were you t’inking, burning a client’s property!? Remy, it could have been so much worse, imagine if—“

                “I’m not _stupid_ Henri, I know what I saw!”

                “Do you? How could anyone be _dat_ old? What is he, a vampire?”

                “Tante is—“

                “Oh Jesus, Remy, you don’t really _believe_ dat do you!? Mattie Baptiste is full of Voodoo and Hoodoo and what have you but she ain’t no two hundred year old woman! That’s just a story de Guild tells deir babies to make dem go to bed at night!”

                Remy didn’t have time to argue with his brother’s skepticism, his own mind was racing. In fact, his head was throbbing. He felt the onset of a migraine; the kind you got after an all-night bender. Henri continued to rant and fume and describe all the ways that The Guild punished Thieves that jeopardized the sanctity and secrecy of the order, but all Remy could hear as a growing buzz that made him want to smash his skull open.

                “Henri…shut up…shut up, stop, s’il vous plaits I can’t…”

                He was holding his head, covering his ears. The light in the room was too bright and he felt like he was fading.

                “Remy? Remy!?”

                He toppled over onto the bed and throbbing seemed to finally stop as the room swam and became dark and silent.

 

***

 

                The sun outside was bright and hot, but the breeze was blowing, offering some relief. All his windows were open, letting in the smell of moss and fresh cut grass, river water and magnolias. Remy woke up, finding himself sprawled awkwardly upon his bed, wearing the same clothes he’d worn last night.

                He felt like he was emerging from a “dead sleep” if he’d ever experienced one; his body felt stiff and heavy and his head still ached. He couldn’t remember falling asleep; all he remembered was the pain in his head.

                He righted himself and managed to make his way to the door, out into the hall and down the stairs. He heard chatter from below and followed it, until he saw his father and Henri at the dinning room table, leisurely eating their lunch.

                “Well, wasn’t sure you were ever gonna come around…” Jean-Luc said, glancing up at him over the edge of his paper. “I know you’re young, Remy, but a gentlemen needs to learn to pace himself. You’re getting beyond de age where drinking yourself into a stupor is acceptable.”

                Henri chuckled, taking another bite of his fish.

                Remy stared at the blankly, wondering which of them had gone crazy. “Where is he? What happened to Essex?”

                “You don’t remember?” Henri asked. “You two certainly seemed to hit it off last night. Turns my stomach actually…he’s what, twenty years older than you?”

                “What de hell are you talking about!?” Remy barked, slamming his fist down on the table and making them both jump. “Dat man _threatened_ us! And I don’t know what he did, or how he done it, but he…he did somet’ing to me; put me out cold! Now my brain feels like grits!”

                Jean-Luc stood and moved beside him, taking his arm. “Remy, sit down. I think you’re still a little punch drunk.” He felt his forehead and Remy shook him off.

                “I’m not drunk! Somet’ing _happened_ last night! Essex came here to collect his ledger and…” He felt sick again and had to close his eyes, head spinning. His father messaged his shoulder.

                “Remy, everything went _fine_. The deal went off wit’out a hitch; the good Doctor was very pleased with your work. You staid up late entertaining him in the parlor, and Henri put you to bed before you could embarrass yourself. Does any of dis sound familiar?

                “Non…I mean…maybe?” He scrapped his brain for some recollection of the evening, but everything felt scattered, disjointed, and the details were beginning to slip away from him, even as he pressed to recall them. He’d been so sure that he’d had a confrontation with Essex the night before…now he could not remember why.

                “Drink dis, Tante made it up for you dis mornin’ before she left.” The dark haired man reached towards his own seat and produced a tall glass of what something that was swampy green and nearly as smelly. It turned his stomach more at the thought of drinking it.

                “Plug your nose and get it down, boy. Den take a shower and clean up, don’t t’ink you’re going to spend the day sleepin’. Jericho’s already been around twice, and you agreed to meet M’sieur Essex for dinner tonight.”

                “I did?”

                “Damn, what did you drink last night?” Henri asked looking up at him.

                “Nothin’…I told you…” but the desire to argue was fading. He grabbed his nose and chugged back Tante’s drink in four big swallows. It tasted like spinach and pineapple and garlic, but he kept it down.

                By the time he finished with his shower, he had completely forgotten the confrontation with Essex, or the journal, or anything he had seen it in. The events, according to Henri and his father, suited him fine.

                An hour later saw him leaving the house, catching the rail car to the French Quarter, the whole ordeal soundly forgotten.

 

***


	4. Chapter 4

 

***

 

                The French Quarter was one of Remy’s favorite places; so much to do and see, such a melting pot of old and new; it was never boring. But he was even fonder of it since Jericho Drumm had taken up residence in one of the city’s tall historic homes with its stacked wrought-iron balconies and hurricane shudders that flanked tall narrow windows, overlooking the street below. Jericho’s building was red, the balconies were stark black and the shudders were painted bright blue; to keep the evil spirits at bay.

                Remy trotted up to the porch and wrapped on the door, relaxing in the shade under the eve of the house. Hands in the pockets of his jacket, he rocked on his heels, whistling as he waited for the man to answer the door.

                A moment later Jericho came to the door, looking mildly irritated. “Well look who finally decided to pry his sorry ass out of bed and grace us all with his presence,” he muttered, folding his arms as he leaned in the door, baring Remy from entering.

                The Cajun rolled his eyes; “Aw come on, Jericho! I had a late night, I’m sorry.”

                The dark skinned man squinted at him then, sensing something off about his friend. Remy knew that look and raised his eyebrows. “Somet’ing wrong?”

                Jericho reached out and caught him by the front of his jacket and yanked him into the house. The two men stood in the center of the narrow foyer between the spiraling staircase and the narrow hall that led to the rest of the main level of the house.

                “What happened to you?”

                “What? Nothin’…” Remy muttered, not sure where this sudden concern was coming from. But the other man was not convinced, and took Remy’s wrist, dragging him up the stairs to the second and then third floor of the house, sweeping into a large room that Jericho used as a study. The room had once belonged to his brother, Daniel, who was now studying abroad in Haiti.

                The room would have appeared as any other, except for a large collection of strange and occult artifacts and paraphernalia. Animal skulls, strange dried herbs and grass, jars and bottles of various oils, ointments and oddities, candles and curious symbols etched on the wall in white chalk, formed an alter across the back wall of the room.

                Remy paused, staring. Growing up in New Orleans, especially around Mattie Baptiste, a Voodun Mambo in her own rite, this sight was far from rare. But he hadn’t expected to find such a meticulously constructed alter to the Laos in Jericho’s own fortress of modern science and medicine.

                “Somet’ing you want to tell me, homme?” he chuckled.

                His friend’s dark eyes narrowed at him in warning and he tugged Remy a little further into the room, ushering him to sit on a nearby bench while he began shuffling through jars that were scattered across the tables and shelves that made up the alter.

                “I don’t have time for your smart-assery, LeBeau. You’ve got a bad aura around you; something very unnatural. I need you to tell me what’s been going on; did something happen on that job you took?”

                “What _didn’t_ happen?” Remy muttered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. He hadn’t spoken to Jericho since his return from Canada, and hadn’t told him anything about Essex. It was risky enough that Jericho even _knew_ about the Guild itself, but his relationship to Tante made Jean-Luc able to deem him trust worthy. Still, Remy never divulged details about the Guild’s doings to the young doctor.

                Jericho came to stand before him, delving his fingers into a jar that seemed filled with brow herbs, flowers and bright blue liquid. He wiped the strange, spicy-sweet smelling liquid across Remy’s forehead in the sign of a cross. It tingled and made Remy flinch. “Ah, what is dat?” he muttered, trying to wipe it away, but Jericho caught his hand.

                “Don’t bother it! It aint’ gonna hurt you none, just relax.”

                “I thought you didn’t believe in any of this Hoodoo stuff?”

                The other man frowned, setting the jar aside; “I accept it; but that doesn’t make me blind. The alter is Daniel’s…I wanted him to take it down, but now that he’s gone, I can’t bring myself to do it. And besides…all the old religions have a little truth to them.” He settled down on his knees in front of Remy, looking at him closely. “You feel okay?”

                “Fine; except now I smell like you dumped gutter water and cinnamon on me.”

                “What happened on the job?”

                “I can’t tell you, mon ami, you know dat.”

                “Then tell me what you _can,_ Remy, please. Something’s wrong, I sense it. Someone put a hex on you or something?”

                “Non,” Gambit chuckled in spite of himself. “De job went fine; though I will tell you dat I never want to visit dat place again. It’d give you nightmares, cher, de t’ings I saw in that place.”

                “How about when you came back? Anything unusual?”

                Here Remy paused, brow furrowed. His head started to hurt again, throbbing faintly as he pressed his memories for details of the night before. “Non…I guess I drank a little too much. My client he was very pleased wit my work, he staid to talk…”

                Jericho was watching his face closely. “You sound like you’re not sure about that.”

                “I’m…not. I mean, when I woke up dis morning, was still wearing de same thing from last night. Mon Pere and Henri, dey acted like I must ‘ave made a fool of myself, drinking and groping on de couch like some high school boy…but I can’t really remember any of dat.”

                “What _do_ you remember? Think careful Remy, focus on details.”

                Gambit watched as the man started drawing little chalk symbols on the floor at his feet, keeping one hand on Remy’s, glancing up at him periodically. “Focus. What do you remember?”

                The pain was getting sharper as Gambit tried to press through the cloud in his mind. He remembered the book, and the words and drawings inside; the mutilated depictions of his kind standing out on the page in aged ink and yellowed parchment.

                Jericho started to mumble and chant something, but Remy didn’t really hear him, he just felt the man’s thick rough hand squeeze his, urging him on. “Dere was a fight…an argument…de book I brought back from dat place…full of awful t’ings. He tried to say that it wasn’t his, but it must have been. Even if it wasn’t…he was using it. To do more experiments ... AHH!”

                He felt like a knife was being raked across his nerves, but Jericho grabbed him and held him fast. The oily water on his forehead felt like it was burning, but Jericho wouldn’t let him touch it, squeezing the leaner man against him. “It’ll pass, don’ touch it! Something evil’s in your head, trying to make you forget. Don’t give in, fight it!”

                Remy grit his teeth and pushed through the burning pain until all the fog around the events of last night dissipated in a painful flash, and he saw Essex’s face clearly in his mind. The man had done something to him, used some sort of power or magic to make him forget their confrontation. He’d used the same thing on Henri and Jean-Luc once Remy had passed out.

                The burning subsided, so did the stabbing pain in his skull. The Cajun relaxed in Jericho’s arms, trying to catch his breath.

                Jericho steadied him, “You’re alright now…it’s gone, whatever it was. You broke through it; well done.”

                “Merci, mon ami…but don’t _ever_ do dat to me again.” Remy muttered, rubbing his throbbing skull. His companion smirked at him and stood, bringing Remy a bottle of water from his desk and letting him recover.

                “What do you know about this Essex?”

                “Dat he’s bad news,” Remy muttered, wiping his mouth and getting to his feet. His head was clear again, but his good mood was somewhat soured. “And dat he must ‘ave taken a shine ta me, put it in all our heads dat I’m supposed to have dinner wit him tonight.”

                “Well fuck that,” Drumm said, making his companion blink in surprise. Jericho reached for his wallet and jacket from their places at his desk. “You’re going out with me tonight, boy. We’re gonna paint the town, and keep you far away from that fucker and his mind tricks. Maybe we come up with a plan to make him think twice before messin’ you.”

                “What about—“

                “Your Pere will be fine; we get home tonight I’ll do a blessin’ on the house to clear up any of that bad stuff left over. For now, they probably safer not knowing just what happened.”

                “Oui, you right.” Remy stood and glanced at the alter again. “Tante would be proud of you, you know. You ever gonna tell her you actually pay attention to her lessons?”

                “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

 

**

 

                An hour later they were in a cozy corner of one the city’s tiny hole-in the wall bars, that only locals seemed to know about. It was barely mid-afternoon, but both men were on their third beer and basket of fried shrimp and hushpuppies.

                Women stared at them, giggling to themselves and their girlfriends about which one of them might be single and willing for a little fun. Men kept giving them long side-long glances over thick foamy glasses of beer and amber-filled shot glasses.

                Jericho looked at his friend seriously; “Tone it down, will ya?”

                Remy took another bite of fries and glanced around the room before turning back to his food with a grumpy shrug; “Let dem look, homme. Ain’t in de mood to keep t’ings under wraps today…still can’t believe what I let myself get into wit dat fuckin’ vamp…” he muttered, finishing his third bottle.

                Jericho nodded; “Tell me about the facility again; what you saw up there. You sure it was the government doing experiments on these people?”

                “Don’t know why else de military be involved. Essex knew what dey were up to up dere, I’m sure of it now. He wants me to believe he’s trying to keep Mutants safe, but what was in dat book makes me t’ink he ain’t no better den de others.”

                “What are you going to do about it?”

                Remy frowned; “Pray for deir souls and keep my head down.”

                Jericho stared; “You’re joking.”

                “I ain’t no hero. Besides, what am I supposed to do? Callin’ de higher ups will just lead to a lot of questions; questions I can’t answer wit’out givin’ de Guild away. Non…I just got to get away from Essex and wait for dis all to blow over.”

                Jericho said nothing, looking away as he drank, but Remy could feel his disappointment and he growled in frustration; “What do you want from me, homme? I don’t even know what Essex _is._ He might be a Mutant, he might be magic like you, hell he might be some demon spawn raised up from Hell itself, I don’t fuckin’ know! But anyone who can mess wit a man’s mind like dat oughta be avoided; don’t ya t’ink?”

                The man with the white streaked hair rolled his broad shoulders and settled back in his chair thoughtfully as their waitress came to collect their plates and offer another round, which they declined. “Looks like you’ve got to choose between being a Mutant and being a Thief.”

                Remy paid the tab and stood up, the other man trailing behind him. “Dat’s an easy choice.”

                “Is it?”

                Gambit rolled his eyes; “You know, I liked you better when you was willin’ to let t’ings lie and follow me mindlessly into trouble.”

                “I’m still doing that, ain’t I?”

                Remy softened. “Oui. I guess you are.”

                They walked a few blocks, letting their food and drink digest as they took in the sights and sounds. They followed the streets over to Frenchman, where the Jazz was the best and Remy had more than a few acquaintances. He was so well known in fact that he could scarcely go more than a few feet without being greeted by familiar faces.

                Jericho put his arm casually around Remy’s waist, “How many of those people have you slept with?”

                “You callin’ me loose?” the Cajun grinned and winked. “Just cause I have a healthy sexual appetite, and all you give yourself time for is your hand and a tissue box, don’t make me a slut.”

                Jericho gripped him hard and grinned, baring his teeth and nipped him sharply on the neck before giving his ass a harsh squeeze. “I’m callin’ you a _tease_ , LeBeau. I know you can’t help it, that Charm and all, but damn…” He shoved his hand into his pocket to hide the fact that he’d been half hard this whole time and Remy laughed and leaned against him.

                “Aw cher! I’m sorry, I’ll try to keep it down. But I can’t help what I was born wit.” He kissed Jericho’s cheek and put his arm around him in return, which earned several calls and howls from on-lookers. Remy waved his middle finger at them in return.

                They ducked into another bar, where the music was loud, deep and soulful and the interior was dark and lit with neon lights. The crowd down here was more diverse, and filled with patrons that aged between twenty five and sixty.

                They paid for drinks and made their way to the upper level, where they could stand out on the balcony and watch the world go by, while the music helped to muffle their conversation. “You know…” Remy said thoughtfully, sipping his cocktail which was something called Cajun Lemonade. “Maybe I don’t go to de authorities…or de Guild. Maybe I handle Essex myself.”

                Jericho paused in his own drink, glancing nervously at him out of the corner of his eye. “And do what exactly?”

                “Maybe I find out where he keeps de rest of his so-called research…maybe I destroy all his files. Maybe it all goes ‘boom’ one night; cause of fire unknown.”         

                “Sounds dangerous.”

                “No more so den letting him walk away. If he really is doin’ dose kind of experiments on people like me…maybe I do got an obligation to stop it.”

                Drumm nodded; “Maybe you do. But don’t do this alone, Remy. Let me go with you, just in case you run into trouble again.”

                “Can’t ask you to do dat; you got school, your license to t’ink about. You got a bright future; I ain’t gonna be de reason it goes up in flames.”

                “I’m not asking, I’m telling. If you do this, I’m going with you. Let’s face it, you don’t stand a chance without me.” He grinned.

                “Alright,” the Cajun nodded, raising his glass to the other man. “To vigilantism!”

                They clinked their glasses and downed the remainder of their drinks, wincing as the alcohol burned all the way down.

                “Fuuuck…that’s going straight to my head. Better get something else to eat,” Drumm said, setting his glass down and turning back towards the door. He realized then that Remy wasn’t listening. The Cajun was rooted to the spot, staring down at the street below. Jericho returned to the edge of the rail and followed his gaze.

                Remy was staring hard at a man who had just emerged from an expensive black car, wearing a dark navy suit and red tie, long black hair tied back at the nape of his neck. He carried a ruby studded walking stick and wore black leather gloves and dark sunglasses.

                “Let me guess, that’s the vampire?”

                “None other,” Remy muttered, watching the man like a hawk. Essex stepped out of the car and walked down the opposite side of the street until he vanished into the side door of another business. The lower level was a restaurant, but the side entrance lead to someplace seedier, a so-called pawn shop that sold black-market goods.

                Jericho shook his head; “Talk about shady fuckers…LeBeau, that man _reeks_ of trouble and bad JuJu. Why the hell would you accept a job from him?”

                “Thieves are a lot like beggars, mon ami…can’t be picky.” He was tugging at Jericho’s arm as they made their way back down to the main floor of the club. As they stepped out onto the sidewalk, the older man grabbed his arm.

                “Where are you going? We’re supposed to be _avoiding_ him.”

                “I want to know what he’s up to.”

                “Nothing good, I promise,” Jericho hissed, dragging him back into the darkness of the doorway just as Essex re-emerged from the doorway, carrying something in a small black case, making a bee-line for his car.

                For a moment the two men thought they had been spotted and huddled together behind the darkness of a brick pillar that blocked they from view. Remy felt that shiver creep up his spine again, like someone walking over his grave. Jericho seemed to feel it too, his gaze narrowing dangerously towards the man in the street.

                “What the hell is he?” he whispered to Remy. “I feel something, like he’s reaching out, searching for something.”

                Gambit’s clenched hands began to spark and crackle nervously, drawing attention of other patrons nearby.

                “Hey, how’d you do that?” Some loud, drunk woman gasped, sliding off her bar stool and staggering over to them.

                Remy tensed and waved his hand to dispel the sparks, “Do what, cherie? Just a trick of de light.”

                The woman, middle aged, over-done and heavily intoxicated stared at him with glazed eyes; “Oh my god, look at your _eyes_! Is that some kind of costume? Honey, honey, come over here! I think it’s one of those…what do you call ‘em…? Mutants!”

                “Aw hell no,” Jericho muttered, “Ma’am, I apologize, but we don’t have time for this.” He grabbed Remy’s hand and made to escape out onto the other side of the sidewalk, ducking into the oncoming crowd of pedestrians to hide themselves.

                “You think he saw us?” he asked.

                Remy nodded stiffly, keeping his pace quick but even. He could practically feel Essex’s breath baring down the back of his neck and he felt suddenly afraid; like he’d caught the attention of some old, vile spirit that was looking for blood.

                “Dis way,”

                They ducked hurriedly into the lobby of one the street’s finer establishments, where there seemed to be a wedding reception going on. The reception was loud and boisterous, the music blaring from the grand ballroom beyond the foyer. Remy and Jericho made for the sweeping staircase that lead up to the second floor, passing the bride as she made her way down.

                “Remy?”

                Gambit stiffened for a moment and did a double take, looking back at the woman. “Celeste! My you look…well, I guess you must have worked things out wit ‘im after all!”

                The woman, swishing and swaying in her piles of white satin, moved over to him and slapped him across the face with bouquet, sending red rose petals everywhere. “You jerk! You’ve got some nerve showing up here!”

                “It was completely unintentional, cherie, I assure you.”

                She looked almost disappointed, but before she could express anything further, another figure had appeared at the foot of the stairs, gazing up at them curiously.

                “Oh, looks like more guests! Why don’t go and say hello!” Remy cried, all but shoving the woman at Essex, before he and Jericho bolted up the stairs, scrambling down the corridor and narrowly avoiding knocking over a pair of bridesmaids who were kissing in the hallway.

                “You know that girl?” Jericho panted.

                “It’s a long story,”

                “With you, everything is.”

                They ducked around another hall only to find themselves on a balcony over looking the ballroom where the party was taking place.

                “Shit, we need to double back,” Remy turned, only to find himself standing face to face with Essex himself.

                “If I didn’t know any better, Remy, I’d say you were avoiding me.” The dark haired man spoke, smiling at him, though there was no mirth in his features. “Why on earth would possess you to run from me, dear boy? I thought we had left on such good terms last night. I’m looking forward to our evening together.”

                He made as if to touch Remy’s face with one of his long gloved fingers, but Jericho made his presence known then, pushing forward. “Back off,” he rumbled, glaring down at Essex. “ He ain’t goin’ anywhere with you, you creep. Or can’t you take a hint?”

                The man in the suit looked Drumm up and down with a deep level of distaste; eyeing everything from the man’s hair, to his clothing, to his eyes, to the strange ornamental talisman he wore around his neck. “Oh Remy…is this the sort of people you associate yourself with in your free time? How disappointing.”

                Jericho cracked his fists; “You might want to be real careful about where you’re going with that sentence, my friend.”

                “I’m not speaking to you,” The Doctor muttered, glaring at Jericho. Remy watched as his friend suddenly seemed to seize up, as if frozen or constricted, unable to move.

                Remy pushed forward then, knocking the other man back into the hallway and pulling a card from his pocket, letting it ignite at once and holding it in front of his former client’s face as a warning; “Non you don’t, M’sieur. Don’t know what you are, or why you t’ink you can stroll yourself into my life and start pushing my friends around, but I’m going to make you very sorry you did if you don’t leave him alone.”

                The dark haired man smirked; “Remy, we needn’t be so hostile towards each other. I apologize if I have alarmed you, or came on too strongly. As you can imagine, it’s often difficult for our kind to separate our friends from our enemies.”

                “You want to be my _friend_ M’sieur? Should have thought about dat before you messed wit my head, or made my family believe lies, or used me to get back your filthy research. You ain’t no better den dose monsters up there, Essex. Maybe you’re worse…you’re doing dis shit to your own people.”

                “I’m trying to s _ave_ our people, Remy. If you’d only allow me to explain.”

                “Non,” Gambit said resolutely. “You’ve lost dat chance.” He flung the card past Essex’s ear and watched the pop of it make him wince and flinch, singing him faintly. “You stay away from me, understand? We’re done; and if I see so much as your shadow, you’re gonna see what my powers can do, up close and personal.”

                The dark eyed man only continued to grin, looking at LeBeau with a truly sinister expression; “Don’t tempt me, my darling.”

                Remy cocked his fist, ready to strike, only to have Jericho surge forward and do it for him, knocking Essex into the wall and sending him sliding down it.

                Gambit turned to him, jaw open, waving his arms. “What’d you do dat for!?”    

                “He’s a racist, and a no good stalker,” Jericho snarled, spitting at the man. “And he called you ‘darling’.” He grabbed Remy’s arm and pulled him forward. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

                The doctor watched them leave, wiping the little trickle of blood that appeared at the corner of his mouth. His eyes flashed red for a moment, and a symbol in the shape of a diamond, the same luminous shade appeared on his forehead. “You’re not walking away from me that easily…”

 

                Dark fell, and the two men were holed up in the Old Absinthe House, drinking and laughing away their shock and mild terror at the day’s events.

                “I still can’t believe you took my punch,” Gambit pretended to pout, his cheeks faintly pink and his black and ruby eyes slightly glazed from so much drinking. “I had de perfect set up, it was _my_ punch!”

                He tossed down his cards on the table and Jericho giggled behind his own hand, tossing down a pair of aces; “I was defending your honor.”

                “Fuck dat shit, you just wanted a piece of ‘im. And you’re greedy…yer a greedy, greedy man.”

                “You’re drunk.”

                “Oui…but not enough.” He grinned and turned in his seat, waving to the bartender. “Pierre! Mon couer! Another round, s’il vous plait! For my gallant side-kick!”

                Jericho chuckled again, the sound deep and bubbling in his throat. “Jesus…I ain’t your _side-kick_ you skinny little cracker! _I’m_ Batman _._ _You’re_ Robin.”

                “Sure I’m Robin,” Remy grinned. “You ain’t got de legs ta be Robin.”

                “You’re so drunk.”

                Pierre came over with another round of shots for them and looked at them both dubiously; “Boys, I think you both have had enough. I’m cutting you off after this, Remy.”

                The auburn haired man nodded in agreement, brushing the bartender’s arm. “You right, of course, mon cher. How about some water and something to put on our stomachs?”

                “Sure, coming right up.”

                Remy blew him a kiss and the man struggled to walk away, blushing faintly. Jericho sat down his cards, doing his best to look at Remy seriously. “He’s going to pick up our tab for the night. He keeps making eyes at you…so does most of the room.”

                “Pierre always picks up my tab,” Remy sighed, taking his second to last shot and grinning. “He’s madly in love wit me.”

                “You’re a terrible person.”

                “You’re _also_ madly in love wit me,” Remy grinned, leaning back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the table and looking at Jericho with those smoldering black and red eyes and devilish grin. There was a reason they called him Le Diable Blanc.

                His companion felt the pull of Remy’s Charm, but he resisted, if only by the narrowest margins, frowning as he swirled his own drink, and shook a finger at him. “That’s cruel, LeBeau.”

                “I just want you to admit it,” Remy giggled, not fully realizing he was poking a nerve. “For once, be nice to hear you say it aloud, instead of just thinking about it all de time and giving me dose looks…makes a man crazy.”

                “I’m not in love with you. You’re an asshole who makes people fall all over themselves whenever you turn on your little powers…you distract people with sex so you don’t have to actually get close to anybody or have a real relationship. So what would the _point_ be in loving you?”

                Remy blinked and reached for his other shot; “Damn homme…dat stung.”

                The dark skinned man shrugged. “The truth usual does.”

                The Cajun glanced back at his cards…he couldn’t even remember what game they were playing. “So maybe I _do_ lead people on; maybe I like de attention. Maybe it’s nice to be wanted. Maybe you just jealous…”

                Jericho grunted. “Maybe I am…”

                He flung his remaining cards at the table top and looked at the man seriously; “Den maybe you should stop wishing and wanting and just _decide_ what it is you want from me, homme. Cause maybe I ain’t de only one stringing people along…”

                Drumm looked at him for a long time, feeling the warm burn of Remy’s Charm, aching to reach over and grab him and kiss him hard and possessively. But, even in his drunkenness, he couldn’t tell how much of that impulse was being prompted by the Mutant’s powers, and how much was his own frustrated infatuation with Remy.

                “Shut up.”

                Remy glared at him for a moment, then stood up abruptly, slapping his hands on the table as he leaned over it to look his companion in the eye. “ _You_ , mon ami…are afraid. You’re afraid of who you are, you’re afraid of what you can do, and you’re afraid of what you want. And dat ain’t no way to live your life.”

                “Fuck you, LeBeau.”

                Remy grabbed his shot and flung it in his face. “Non, mon ami. _Fuck you.”_

                He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and stormed towards the exit, leaving Jericho sputtering and cursing behind him.

                In his drunkenness his strides felt longer and his feet slightly less sure. He swayed a little here and there as he marched down the street, bowing his head against the suddenly cold, damp wind and drizzle of rain.

                He’d never fought with Jericho like that before. He and the young psychology student didn’t always see eye to eye on things, and their life styles were very different. They argued like siblings on most days, or like a married couple on others. Remy wasn’t even sure what had prompted this fight; maybe their adrenaline was running too high, maybe they were both more strung out than they wanted to admit. Maybe the stress had nowhere else to go.

                Whatever the reason, he knew he’d have to apologize. Jericho was his friend, first and foremost. Nothing else was as important as that. After what he did for him today; he should have been grateful; instead he was poking at the man’s personal Achilles heel like a drunken asshole.

                About two blocks down he stopped, scrubbing his hand over his face, feeling the stubble that was starting to appear there and sighed in frustration. “Dammit…I gotta go back.”

                But as he turned, he suddenly realized that something seemed off. The street, which had been busy a moment ago, even in the rain, suddenly looked utterly deserted in the fog beneath the pale glow of the street lamps and neon signs.

                Remy blinked, steadying himself against a lamp post as he tried to get his bearings. “What? Dis ain’t right…where’d everybody go?”

                “I wouldn’t concern yourself with them, dear boy.” A chilling, sinister voice said behind him in the mist. “You have much more pressing matters to deal with!”

                Gambit bellowed then as he was swept off his feet by an invisible force, and sent flying backwards into the narrow alley beyond the street lamp. He crashed brutally into the wall and fell, landing on all fours, winded and wide eyed; only to have a hand grab him and hurling him back against the wall, a surprisingly strong body crushing up against him.

                Remy found himself looking into the face of Doctor Essex once more; though this time he barely recognized it. In the milky lamp light, the elegant looking man seemed twisted and deranged, his eyes were wide and menacing, almost manic, and his grin was a twisted snarl, exaggerated by the black lines of his facial hair. His forehead bore a strange luminous shape, which seemed to be radiating some sort of power.

                “I’ve let you have your fun, but the time for games is over,” Essex muttered, his voice raspy and halted, as he pressed himself too close to Gambit, grinding against him practically. Remy found himself unable to move or defend himself, as though he were paralyzed. “If you want to behave like a drunken tramp, then I’ll be all too happy to oblige you!”

                He kissed Remy roughly, demandingly, gloved hands pulling away his coat and trying to get under his clothes. The Cajun squirmed, trying to fight back against the strange influence that was overwhelming him, making him hazy and weak, but he couldn’t get any leverage.

                He felt the man’s mouth on his, invading, probing, trying to entice a more heated reaction from his victim. “You’re beautiful, Remy….you can’t appreciate how much so, surrounded by these lower life forms. But I could show you…I could show you how our kind are _meant_ to be treated.”

                The words seemed like ravings, madness…perhaps they were. Remy had encountered this before; when his Charm overwhelmed people with certain personality types or predispositions. It never ended well, and often it lead to violence…but this was something even more terrifying. Essex grabbed him between his legs, trying to arouse him and Remy pushed back against him, trying to break free. What was happening; why couldn’t he escape?

                Essex’s lips were on his neck, biting, sucking, his hands continued to pull and fondle him as he ground against him. Remy could only manage the smallest movements or sounds of resistance…and then he realized something else was wrong.

                For all of Essex’s lustful words and touches, there seemed to be little evidence of arousal coming from between his own hips, which were grating so harshly against Remy’s hip and thigh. Gambit ceased struggling all together then, becoming completely passive.

                Essex grinned, pulling him away from the wall and looking into his face again; “Ah, there we are…are you ready to submit to me, darling? Just as you should have from the start?”

                “Submit to what?” Remy hissed. He jolted his thigh against his assailant’s groin. “No wind in your sails, cher? Dat why you gotta corner men in dark allies and spout off your jibberish? Cause it don’ work?”

                He laughed. Maybe it was the deliriousness of the situation, maybe it was his fear taking on a new form, or maybe it was the drunken haze that slowed his mind and made this twisted reality even harder to grasp. But Remy LeBeau _laughed._

                The Doctor pulled back from him for a moment, and his face twisted into an expression of the most pure rage. Remy felt the paralysis leave his body and he started to run; but not fast enough. Something collided sharply with his head, making him bellow in pain and tumble onto the pavement, his skull ringing.

                “YOU LITTLE BASTARD! HOW DARE YOU! _HOW_ _DARE YOU!”_

                Remy felt the same object fall across his back and shoulders with a loud rush of air and crack across his skin and bones. He bellowed again, realizing the man was beating him with his cane. Essex made to strike him again, but this time Gambit managed to catch the end of the cane and charge it with his energy.

                It glowed brilliantly for a moment and then exploded into splinters, making the Doctor scream and fall away.

                There was a shout from the end of the alley and rush of heat and the bright orange glow of flames rising from somewhere unseen. Essex turned in a blur, throwing out his hand and somehow managing to deflect the flames as Remy laid, aching and stunned on the concrete, blood slowly dripping from the crushed patch of skin on his forehead down his eyebrow and across the bridge of his nose.

                “This isn’t over,” the black haired man muttered, and was suddenly gone as if he’d never been. The heat from the flames vanished and Remy heard Jericho shouting at him. The bigger man fell beside him, pulling him into his lap.

                “Remy! Remy!?”

                “I’m okay…I think I’m okay…”

                “You’re bleeding, baby, and your clothes…Jesus, Remy did he--?”

                Gambit put his arm around his friend’s neck and let the bigger man lift him off the wet ground, groaning in pain that lanced across his head, shoulders and back. “Just get me outta here, cher…”

                Jericho nodded and let him bury his head against his shoulder. “I got you now, hang on. I’ll take you back home.”

                “Non! Non, it not safe dere…go where he won’t look…” his words were starting to slur, and he found he couldn’t keep his eyes open. They were shutting on their own volition as his head started to throb and buzz. He just wanted to sleep…

                “Remy, don’t close your eyes. Don’t do it, Remy! If you die from a concussion I’ll never… wake up, stay with me!”

                But it was no good, the Cajun couldn’t hear him anymore, already passed out in his arms.

 

***


	5. Chapter 5

 

                Hank returned with take-out for a late lunch. Restless, Storm and Remy decided to stretch their legs for a bit, and took a stroll along the path through the gardens out front, while their feral companions remained in the empty class room, watching from the window.

                It didn’t take long for Logan to catch Hank up on what he’d missed. McCoy ate his sandwich in pensive silence, studying Logan’s features as the dark haired mutant watched his two lovers walking below them on the grounds.

                “It’s good to know that he wasn’t always in such dire conditions,” Hank offered, not sure where to begin or what to say.

                Wolverine nodded absently.

                “Does it bother you?” the Doctor asked then, with slightly more reserve, his voice dropping as though afraid of being overheard. “His initial infatuation with Essex?”

                Logan snorted; “I ain’t got room to talk there, Beasty,” he answered with a rueful shake of his head. “Look what I came from.”

                Hank suddenly lost his appetite all together and sat his food aside, feeling quite at a loss. “Logan, I know you don’t need me to tell you this, but…it doesn’t change anything. You’re still the good man I’ve always known. Creed can’t change that. Just like Sinister’s wickedness hasn’t changed who Remy is at the core. You’re still good people, despite your circumstances.”

                “But we are different, Hank. Things like that leave a mark on ya, and they shape you. Who knows what I would have turned out to be were it not for Creed. Remy could be head of the Thieves Guild by now. But we’ll never know.”

                He finished his drink and turned more fully towards the large blue mutant when he saw Storm and Remy making their way back towards the school, hand in hand, walking close together. “Sorry, furball…don’t mean to bitch and moan.”

                Hank offered him a smile, “I don’t mind your ‘bitching’, my friend. I never have.”

                There was a space between them now, a coldness that had never been before. Logan was congenial enough, but he kept himself at a safe distance, never looking at Beast for too long, and rarely letting himself be alone with him. Hank was guilty of much the same, feeling he had lost his right to Logan’s personal affairs the moment he’d left for Washington. He regretted it every day. It might have been kinder to distance himself from the group entirely, but that was utterly impossible. They were all too important to him.

                A moment later the missing pair returned, arms looped around each other’s waists, looking chilled and wind swept.

                “You two still sticking around? Not tired of my voice yet?” Remy grinned, trying to hide the awkward feeling in the bit of his stomach that rose when he looked them in the eye. Even with his Empathy tightly under control, he could still get various low-level readings off them.

                Logan drew the Cajun down beside him on the bench by the window and nuzzled up into him as Storm settled down next to Hank, lightly running her hand across his back in a comforting gesture that the other two missed.

                “So Sinister is…impotent?” Hank asked, thoughtfully sipping his tea and adjusting his glasses on his nose. “That seems to explain a lot. What a warped, frustrated old man he must be.”

                “I agree,” Storm nodded. “Men like that are inexcusable. Still it seems strange he would attempt to attack you; I mean he must have been aware of his condition.”

                “It didn’t seem to stop him from trying to put hands on ya though, did it?” Logan muttered, feeling angry and territorial at the thought, pulling Remy closer. “I woulda saved him the embarrassment of explaining himself and chopped it off then and there.”

                “My Charm made him crazy,” Remy answered, “I didn’t realize dat till much later…I was too drunk at de time. I doubt he would have been so impulsive otherwise. He’s just not de type.”

                Wolverine nuzzled him, “At least it kept him off ya in that sense.”

                Gambit’s eyes shifted nervously and he sighed, “Maybe it best I finish dis story another time. Here we are, wasting a whole Saturday listening to my stupidity…”

                The other three exchanged nervous looks, and it was Logan that spoke. “Darlin’, thought this was about you getting all this off yer chest. If you wanna stop, that’s fine with us, but only if you’re sure you wanna leave it there.”

                His lover exhaled and rested his chin against the fold of his fingers thoughtfully, “You right, cher. De t’ing is, what comes next…you may not like so much.” His eyes shifted nervously to Logan again, appearing to fear his reaction most of all.

                “Just tell us, Remy, whatever it is.” Storm said, sitting beside him now as well.

                Remy was looking more and more embarrassed; “Look mes amis, I never claimed to have de best judgement on dese t’ings. After dat night, Essex went off to lick his wounds, and I didn’t tell my family what happened until almost two weeks later…somet’ing else came up.”

                They all waited, and Remy sighed heftily. “Alright, listen…ya’ll know dat I was a thief now, but…dat was only _part_ of what I did for de Guild. My talents…leaned demselves to _other_ methods of getting whatever the Guild needed.” He scratched his neck nervously, chewing his lower lip. “Plenty of times, when I was helping wit a job, I went undercover as an escort, to keep the target distracted while my associates handled the rest.”

                Ororo shrugged her shoulders; “That makes sense, it’s a good cover. Allows you plenty of access to your target’s personal information, finances, assets…whatever you were after.”

                Both Hank and Logan blinked at her and she rolled her eyes; “Please; did you two forget I used to steal for a living as well? Of course…it was a bit different for me.”

                She looked to Remy and the two exchanged a look that told Logan they had been discussing their sordid lifestyles in depth for awhile now. Again, Logan found himself all too grateful for Ororo.

                “Dat’s right, but…plenty of times, I took clients of my own, having not’ing at all to do wit de Guild or stealing anyt’ing from dem. I did it…because I enjoyed it.” His face was faintly red, but he kept his head up, bracing himself for what he assumed was coming next.

                Ororo looked intrigued, blue-grey eyes slightly widened, her chin thoughtfully resting on her palm. Beside her, Hank was stiff and wide eyed, faintly pink under his fur.

                “Oh.”

                “Yep,” Remy muttered, suddenly wishing he had a cigarette, though he had kicked the habit ages and ages ago. He glanced at Logan out of the corner of his eye; “Everyt’ing Creed told you about me was true; made a name for myself and a hell of a lot of money, taking wealthy, lonely socialites to bed. I was known in New Orleans for two talents; sex and trouble. And the two were far from mutually exclusive.”

                “As…as long as you were safe, I see nothing wrong with that at all,” Hank mumbled, licking his lips and feeling a heat rising up his neck and rushing straight to his cheeks. “It was all between two consenting adults; the only difference between that and simple dating is that there was payment involved.” He paused nervously and then added, adjusting his glasses; “Actually it occurs to me…I gather you made a tidy sum with the Thieves Guild, but…acting as an escort all on its own…you must have charged quite a bit for your services.”

                “Hank…” Logan grunted, half amused and half cautious.

                Remy giggled a little noting Hank’s flustered expression; “Oh yes, mon ami. Even your average escort is quite pricey, you are paying for their time, their attention, and in return, they make you feel like you’re a king. And a Mutant such as myself, with my particular talents…well, I’d have to say for the right price I could make someone feel like a God.”

                Hank was so red beneath his fur he was almost purple. “My goodness…how would one go about achieving that sort of pleasure?”

                Remy’s eyes were practically sparkling, his grin wide and mischievous. “Well dat depends largely on de customer…more often den not I’d run into de type who _thought_ dey were adventurous, wanted to try all de kinks, but really dey were just vanilla cupcakes who wanted someone to tell dem how good dey were at sex. But every now and again I’d get a real wild card…of course, the bigger de kink, de bigger de price tag.”

                “And…these kinks, these requests…they didn’t bother you?”

                Remy shrugged. “Non, why should dey? Everyone’s got somet’ing dey like, some secret t’ing dat turns dem on…” he fixed Hank with one of those low smoldering looks that had snared so many before. “I bet even _you_ have somet’ing dat gets you purring at night, mon ami…”

                Hank swallowed loudly and Storm rubbed his shoulders, giving Remy a look that meant he needed to tone it down a little while Logan was smirking, already knowing that Hank was full of secret hot buttons under that straight-laced blue hide.

                “And to think I get all this for free…” Logan cooed beside him, and Remy could hear a little note of jealousy in his voice.

                “Oh, not for free, mon amour. You gave me your heart in exchange.”

                Logan smiled but rolled his eyes.

                “But you…you weren’t dating them, these clients. It was strictly sex?” Beast asked, having recovered his voice.

                “Oui.”

                “You were comfortable doing that? Right after what had happened to you?”

                Remy shrugged, but they could all feel his tension, though he was doing his best to close himself off that way, disabling the open link between the four of them. “I’ve never been shy about sex; to me, it’s just dat. Doesn’t have to mean everything, and what happens with one partner don’t mean it will be de same way wit another. Maybe it’s crazy, but lookin’ at it dat way…probably de only t’ing dat kept me sane. So after Essex tried his shit…yeah, I felt shaken. And I might not’ve been so eager to jump back into bed wit someone…but de right someone came along and convinced me otherwise.”

                Remy finished his drink and looked at them all squarely, “Maybe ‘De Big Easy’ shoulda been my nickname, huh?”

                All three of his companions looked deeply uncomfortable with his casual self-deprecation.

                Logan took his hand tightly in his then. “Give us a minute.” He said, before glancing at Ro, hoping she would understand.

                The white-haired woman nodded and stood up, taking Beast’s arm, “Hank, I think now would be a good time to grab that lesson plan from my desk.”

                “Of course…” the big blue furred man mumbled, not really sure what was going on, but trusting Ororo’s judgement.

                “Cher?” Gambit asked, sounding slightly tense that Logan had gone through the trouble of clearing the room, even locking the door behind Storm as she lead Hank out. The feral remained still for a moment, making sure no one else was in the immediate vicinity.

                Remy’s nerves got the better of him and rose from his seat, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I had a feelin’ it wouldn’t sit well wit you; but I wasn’t sellin’ myself. I mean…it weren’t like when we met, cher. Dese people I went wit, dey paid me for my time, my company, conversation, even advice sometimes…it wasn’t just sex. And it was always on my terms.” He sighed when Logan continued to look on in silence. “I feel like I’m talkin’ to a wall, Logan. Just _say_ somet’ing, would you?”

                But Logan said nothing at all. Instead he just reached up and pulled the tall man down with into a heated intense kiss, holding Remy’s face between the rough palms of his hands as he maneuvered him back against the desk, falling onto it with him.

                Logan wrapped himself around the other man, wanting to be as close as possible. When he finally let his mate come up for air he looked him in the eyes, keeping his face close to his. “I love you, all of you. Got it?”

                “I know, cher—“

                “No, you don’t. Or you wouldn’t smell so afraid…like you’re waiting for me to bark at ya, or walk away, call you a whore…get that outta yer head. You’re not that to me, you never were, never will be. Don’t matter what’s happened…I love you.”

                Gambit nodded, speechless, and pulled Logan back down into another kiss, wrapping his arms around him tightly, never wanting to let go. After everything that had happened between them; it meant the world for him to hear those words.

                “You’re too good to me,”

                “No I ain’t either…but I’m gonna do better, Rems. I swear.” He kissed him again, feeling himself becoming more aroused the closer he was to the other man. It had been too long since it was just the two of them; scars still healing after what had transpired before.

                Remy broke the kiss, somewhat reluctantly, “Dey’ll be back any minute you know…”

                “Who cares? Ro can join in…” Logan panted, lips at his neck, one hand in Remy’s hair, the other pressed under his back, positioning him closer against him as he started to grind against him.

                “What about Hank?”

                “He can watch…”

                Remy laughed, letting his head fall back against the desk, “Oh poor Henri! It might kill him; seeing us writhing and naked…he’s a little uptight, non?”

                Logan growled low against Remy’s skin, “Not as much as you’d think, Cajun…”

                The auburn haired man wanted to give over and let Logan take him right there, decency and school property be damned, but something made him stop. “Cher, not now…take me later, good and proper, when we can take our time.”

                Wolverine hesitated, then with a little growl of disappointment relented, nodding his head. Remy pulled him in to kiss him again, just to be sure there was no confusion; his desire was not the problem, only the timing.

                “You must got that Charm locked down tight,” Logan mumbled, trying to keep his distance, but finding it hard to pull away completely. “Did you use it on them? These people you went with…?”

                “Some. Not all.”

                “How about the one after Sinister?”

                Remy sighed wistfully, “He was…a fluke. Let’s just say dat.”

                Logan raised a bushy eyebrow, curiosity peeked. He felt a little pinch of jealousy at the idea of Remy giving himself away to anyone other than him and Ro, but he mastered the feeling quickly. After all, he didn’t even know the Cajun then, and they were both men with more than healthy appetites for sex, and even bigger ones for companionship. It would have been strange for Remy _not_ to have had a few romantic interests.

                “Was he prettier den me?” Logan joked, finally feeling like his mate was beginning to relax again.

                “Taller…and handsome, but…in a very different way den you.” The Cajun answered. “He had a daughter I knew from around town; she was about my age, a bit younger come ta t’ink of it. Sweet girl…crazy as a loon t’ough.”

                Logan settled across from him, needing the space to help cool his lingering lust for the man in front of him, and folded his arms thoughtfully. “He must have been your daddy’s age then.”

                “A little older, actually.”

                Wolverine laughed; “You _do_ like older men.”

                “Of course! Dey know what dey want, and when dey want it, and dey don’t play stupid games or spend de night trying to prove dey know everyt’ing when they’re actually completely clueless; not to mention selfish...”

                Logan tried so hard not to laugh. “Hmm, that so? I’ll keep that in mind, next time I’m in bed with my boyfriend.”

                Remy smirked; “You got lucky wit me, mon cher.”

                “Yeah, I did.”

                Remy melted, coming to stand between the shorter man’s legs as he sat on the edge of the desk and put his arms around his broad shoulders. “Maybe I spoke to soon about waiting…”

                But just as he leaned in for a kiss, the door popped open and Storm poked her head in, wagging her finger at them. “Really, boys? Ten minutes…you can’t stay off of each other for ten minutes?”

                Logan grinned and nipped at Remy’s neck, putting his big hands around the taller man’s backside and squeezing lightly. “Can you blame me, Ro?”

                “Hardly. But that’s not the point.”

                Hank was moving into the room then as well, and Logan’s mischievous grin fell. Remy gave him a little peck on the cheek and moved his hands from his ass up to his hips as Hank pretended not to notice. “Perhaps I’ll catch up with you later,” McCoy offered, feeling suddenly out of place.

                Storm grabbed his arm and made him sit down, seating herself almost in his lap to keep him still before turning back to her men; “Go on Remy…what happened next?”

                “Well…dat’s where de story takes a twist, cherie. Dat’s when I met Eli.”

                “ _Pffftt…_ ” Logan snorted in spite of himself, rolling his eyes.“ ‘ _Eli’.”_

 

***

 

                Waking up was worse this time. The only consolation being that he felt weighted in the world again, free of the fog Essex had previously put into his mind. There was a weight across his lower back and thighs, and he almost jumped, still not quite fully awake. But then he recognized the low creaking hiss and the faint, awkward scrape of scaly, clawed feet shuffling across him.

                Remy frowned lifted his head, feeling it throb dully, and glanced over his shoulder. “Louis, you got so fuckin’ fat…get off me!”

                Louis was five feet of reptilian scales, claws and teeth, but rather than the muted black-brown and drab green of a normal Bayou alligator, he was a strange milky white. The creature belonged to Mattie Baptiste, her “pet”, which she’d brought up from an egg, not only after Remy had joined the LeBeau family.

                The gator growled at Remy’s swatting hand and sudden movements and slowly slunk off his backside, retreating to the empty side of the bed. He hissed faintly and Remy rubbed the flat spot on his head between his eyes to calm him.

                “Hope you weren’t lookin’ for any handouts from me, petite…you weigh a ton. What she been feedin’ you?”

                The albino gator just blinked at him slowly, jaws hanging open in a happy grin. Louis was more like a dog than an alligator these days.

                Remy sat up, wincing at the ache in his shoulders, back and head and glanced around, blurry eyed and resigned at his surroundings. The swamp shack was well known to him, a place he’d visited since he was a boy. It was located at the mouth of the swamp, about eight or nine miles from his Plantation Home. The walls were all made from Cyprus trees, and decorated here and there pictures of relatives, Saints, and other trinkets from Tante Mattie’s long career. Her white linen curtains billowed out from the open sill next to the bed, filling the room with the musty, damp scent of swamp water, moss and everything that lived, bred and oozed in a bayou.

                Remy shifted in the bed, pushing aside the old quilt and getting to his feet as Louis continued to groan and hiss lazily, not liking his peace to be disturbed. He was grateful the old woman had left him his underwear, though she seemed to have absconded with the rest of his clothing.

                He made his way over to her dresser, a small antique thing that looked older than she was, and looked at himself in the little mirror she kept there. The left side of his forehead bore a bright white swath of gauze and tape. His eyes had dark circles under them, and he had horrible red and purple bruises from Essex’s teeth on his neck. He cringed, quickly turning the mirror face down on the top of the bureau, regretting he’d looked. “God damn…Remy LeBeau, you look like shit.”

                He knew he must have been in bad shape for Jericho to bring him here. The last thing he really remembered was trying to convince his friend that returning to his family would surely bring Essex down on all of them…but he didn’t really know that. In the cold light of morning, in the mostly empty bedroom, Remy realized he was more afraid of his father seeing him brought so low than of anything else. He was not sure if Jean-Luc would be more worried or disappointed in him; he’d fucked up, badly this time and possibly made a very powerful enemy for The Guild.

                He groaned and hung his head. Last night was a lot clearer than he wished it was; and he could remember every dumb decision, every liquor fueled word he’d traded with Jericho, and the way he’d taunted and _laughed_ at the man who was in the perfect position to harm him. And he had…Remy had the aches and pains to prove it. But he also knew that he’d gotten off easy…

                He glanced towards the doorway, hearing voices somewhere beyond. Grabbing the patchwork quilt from the bed and wrapping himself up in it, he made towards the door, peering out into the rest of the shack. Tante and Jericho were sitting at the woman’s kitchen table, talking close and heatedly.

                “—did anyone else see you? Were dere any witnesses?”

                “No, Tante. I don’t know where that fucker got off to after I chased him away. All I know is he’s a dangerous man with more powers than Remy seems to know about…”

                The woman sipped her drink thoughtfully, a bitter scowl on her face. “I warned Jean-Luc not to do business wit dat man. He’s evil, twisted…he’s brought a dark shadow onto dat house. I’m afraid I may not be able to alter what I’ve seen.”

                “Are you going to tell them?” Jericho asked gravely. The gift of foresight was rare and cherished among their culture; a gift not to be taken lightly or shared too quickly. Tante had always warned the Guild of impending troubles in the past, though she never gave away all the details. That would be revealing too much.

                “I have not decided.” She answered, somewhat stiffly.

                Jericho narrowed his gaze at her; “You’re going to let it play out? What if this man is worse than we thought, what if he does worse next time, what if he _kills_ him?”

                The woman leveled her gaze at him; “Remy has a part to play in the grander design of things, Jericho Drumm, as do we all. The Loas bestowed a gift upon me, and I do what I can wit it to protect de people I love…but to interfere wit deir will? You and I both know that is _asking_ for punishment.”

                Jericho looked about to retort, and then became aware of another pair of eyes watching them. Mattie stood quickly, moving from the table as Remy revealed himself, his eyes moving from her to the young man and then back again.

She grabbed him and hugged him close, her head on his chest. “Dere you are honey! Gave me such a fright, you did! Your poor head…” She pushed back his hair, looking at the bandage closely to see if it needed changing.

                “I’m alright, Tante,” Remy assured, letting her fuss and coo over him, knowing any attempt otherwise would be futile. She ushered him into a chair and quickly poured him something to drink.

                “How you feelin’, bebe?”

                “Better den I look I guess,” he muttered, keeping his head down and refusing to look at Jericho directly. “Sorry for de imposition…”

                “Hush, drink this up.” She handed him the steaming concoction and then looked to Jericho. “He did the right thing bringing you here. There are spells on dis place dat keep even a creature like Doctor Essex at bay.”

                Remy slurped down the herbal brew, wincing at the strong taste of roots, liquorish and other medicinal herbs and coughed before setting it aside. “Does Mon Pere know where I am?”

                The woman shook her head; “I’ve not contacted him, not yet.”

                “Don’t tell ‘im.”

                Jericho turned to him sharply; “Why not? Clearly, you’re in over your head. You’ve got to tell Jean-Luc, get the Guild to take care of this guy, before he tries to attack you again.”

                “Non,” Remy said resolutely, still not looking at the man. “Dis is _my_ mess. Telling de Guild now would only prove to people like Marius Boudreaux dat I can’t take care of myself. Essex was my client, and my responsibility. I’ll handle it in my own way.”

                “He tried to _rape_ you--!”

                Remy slammed his fist on the table and finally looked at his friend, eyes flashing. “I _know_ dat! You t’ink I need you to _tell_ me what he tried to do?! I may have been drunk, but I had enough wits left in my head to recall dat!” He snarled, pushing away from the table and standing up, marching towards the open door of the front porch, where Tante had hung his clothes to air out.

                He yanked them down off the line and started to tug them on, feeling Louis slither alongside him after a moment, still making his quiet hissing noise. “Get on wit ya, ya great white beast! Useless husk of scales…” Gambit muttered, yanking on his pants and shirt, fighting to pull himself together.

                “You got some way of showin’ gratitude…” Jericho muttered behind him.

                Remy grabbed a clothes pin, charged it and hurled it past his head, letting it imbed in the wall before it exploded with a little pop that startled both the man and the gator at his feet, who snapped at his ankles and swished his tail before hurriedly scuttling off the porch and slinking into the water beyond.

                Jericho bared his teeth and narrowed his gaze at Remy, big fist clenched. “What the _hell_ is your problem!?”

                “ _You_ , you stupid, stubborn ass!” Remy snapped, “You know, why don’t you just go back to your books and your exams and just leave me alone, n’est pas? I’m sure I’ve taken up enough of your precious time wit my foolishness.”

                “What are you _talking_ about?”

                “You t’ink I brought dis on myself!” Remy shouted, raising his voice loud enough to startle a nearby crane and a flock of birds who took flight, creating a clamor wings. “You t’ink I lead dat creep on, dat I enticed him. You t’ink I’m too stupid, too reckless to take care of myself, and dat becoming a Thief is about de worse t’ing I ever did!”

                The dark skinned man looked taken aback and stammered; “I never said—“

                “You don’t have ta say it, it’s comin’ off ya like stink off day ol’ fish, Jericho! You saved me, and I’m grateful…but you want me to change; you want me to be somet’ing…dat I just ain’t.”

                “You’re not careful enough,” the other man said after a moment of struggling to choose his words; “Your _Charm_ power is growing all the time, Remy. It’s going to attract more and more people…people like Essex. I’m supposed to stand by and watch you play Russian roulette with your life like that? How can you ask me to do that?!”

                “I love you, Jericho. But I don’t need you to save me from myself. I _like_ who I am…if you can’t be okay wit dat…den we’re done here.” He turned away, climbing off the porch onto the old warped pier that lead from the shack to the shore a few yards away.

                Tante was pushing through the doorway now, “Remy? Wait!”

                She pushed past Jericho and caught the young man’s palm, pressing something into it. It was a tiny red cloth bag, filled with something that felt light and crumbly, like sand or leaves. “Put it in your room; it’ll keep you safe. Promise me, chil’, you do dis for me!”

                Remy hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Oui, Tante, I will.”

                She kissed his cheek and let him go, looking after him worriedly for a moment before turning back to Jericho who had stormed back inside the house.

 

**

 

                He didn’t go home. His family was accustomed to his long, unannounced absences; and especially with him only being gone for little more than a day there was little cause for alarm. He’d call Henri later, when he had cooled off, and make his excuses. His brother always seemed to know when he was lying, but rarely called him on it. Instead he seemed to collect the lies for later, when he needed a favor.

                At that moment, Remy didn’t much care. He felt bruised, battered, slighted and miserable. Essex’s attempted assault was the first he had ever encountered; at least to this level. When his powers had first started to manifest in his early teens, there had been a string of “incidents” with foster families…Remy always got out before anything could happen, either by running away, or by being thrown out.

                But this was a new level of aggression that he hadn’t previously encountered. It frightened him, but he wasn’t keen to let anyone know that. But more upsetting was that Jericho was probably right; it was more than likely that his unchecked _Charm_ drove Essex to act so impulsively and aggressively towards him. Had Remy been sober; had he been actually attempting to keep his powers under control, he might have avoided the incident.

                Meaning of course, he had no one to blame but himself, and that Jericho was right. Things were only going to get worse.

                He took a cab to a little diner just south of the Garden District called “Duke’s.” It belonged to a nice family, who’d been handing the business down since the nineteen twenties. Remy knew most of the staff there, but most especially a young waitress, whom he’d become well acquainted with during his many years of prowling the streets of the Big Easy, staying up all night and searching for refuge come morning, before that long walk home.

                He never used the front door, he always took the back alley between the diner and another business and came around the back way. Sure enough, the young woman was standing there on the back stoop, fanning herself in the heat and sipping ice tea.

                She looked up at him with wide brown eyes, surprised and then suddenly suspicious. “Well, look what the cat dragged in…” she sighed, folding her arms across her petite frame, one dark curly tendril of hair falling across her forehead.

                “Mornin’, Ms. Tia,” Remy greeted, “Been awhile, cherie.”

                “I’ll say it has. Not a word from you in two months; was beginning to think you found yourself a respectable job that wouldn’t keep you up at all hours of the night, just to come slinking in my door step at seven in the morning…guess I was wrong.”

                “Guess so.” Remy replied, coming to stand next to her, leaning on the wall and looking tired as hell. Her gaze softened when she looked at him up close. “Don’t suppose you’d be willin’ to take pity on a poor ol’ sinner one more time, non?”

                She shook her head, looking him over and pushing his hair back out of his face, wincing at the sight of the bandage on his head. “You poor dumb little white boy…what am I gonna do with you?” she sighed, leaning up on her toes to kiss his cheek before grabbing his coat and tugging him into the door.

                “Merci, Tia,”

                “Hush, go sit in that table by the corner. You look like death warmed over; it’s not good for business. Coffee?”

                “Oui, and keep it comin’.”

                The diner was quaint, old fashioned and cloistered, containing three or four free standing tables and three booths along the wall under the big picture window with the place’s name painted on it in bright yellow letters. It felt homey and quiet, and the patrons were usually quiet and kept to themselves; though occasionally you would get a crowd of late night partiers, looking for a place to sober up.

                Billie Holiday crooned over the radio and Remy slunk into a chair at the little table in the left corner of the floor, where there was a significant amount of shade and a fair distance between himself and the other patrons. His head was still aching in a dull pulsing throb and every now and again he’d feel a sharp sting that made him wince and moan.

                He drew up the collar of his trench coat, letting his unwashed hair hang in his face. He smelled musky and sweaty, and his clothes were dry, but not exactly clean. Looking down he saw little brown splatters that were assuredly blood stains.

                He moaned and put his head in his hands. He’d kill for a dark room and warm bed to sleep it off in until the heat died down. But his luck seemed on the short end these days.

                The bell rang then, a bright, shrill jingle that made him grind his teeth, followed by a boisterous greeting from another patron. Remy flinched away from the sound and didn’t turn to look, only opening his blood-shot eyes when he felt Tia approach with the coffee and a plate of beignets.

                “Merci, mon cherie, you too kind.”

                “Eat up,” the girl said, her voice sweet but still commanding. She was a bit bossy that, always sighing and ordering him around. He found it very attractive actually; especially in a woman. “You look like you’ve been living on nothing but wine and crackers. What happened to you?”

                “Long story.”

                “Mmm-hmmm.”

                “Tia! Tia, darlin’, I’m gonna have to order—“

                “Never you mind, Mr. LaBouff, I know exactly what you want. Sit tight, I be right with you!” she gave Remy’s arm a little squeeze and hurried off, leaving the man alone with his breakfast. He poured cream and sugar into his cup, watching the thick black brew turn slowly caramel colored and took a deep drink of it before finally starting to relax.

                The coffee here was also the sort that kicked you in the gut and shook whatever malady was hanging over you off with force, leaving you blinking and breathing easier. He glanced at the plate of beignets, but found he had no appetite.

                All he could think about was how much he didn’t want Jericho to be right, and how uncomfortable he suddenly was in his own skin. He’d never felt that way before; he utterly despised it.

                He was staring down into his cup, watching his spoon go round and round the little lip, when he suddenly felt someone approach him. He almost jumped, finding himself staring up into an unfamiliar face, as another man came to stand next to him.

                “Pardon my intrusion, young man,” the gentlemen spoke, nodding his head quickly in apology. “But I couldn’t help but notice you from my booth over there; you look like someone who could use a bit of company, maybe some friendly conversation. If it wouldn’t be an imposition, might I sit and talk with you awhile?”

                He was tall, taller than Remy even by perhaps an inch or two, with cinnamon colored hair that matched his thick brows and thicker mustache. He had oval face and kind blue eyes, and when he smiled his cheeks bunched and made them wrinkle at the corners. He wore a white seersucker suit and green tie; and his accent had the definite honeyed tones of a Georgia native rather than one of Louisiana’s native sons.

                “Um…of course,” Remy murmured, not really sure if the man before him was real or not.

                The stranger’s smile broadened even further, exaggerating the curve of his cheeks, creating dimples, and he sat himself down neatly across from Remy. He was broad, barrel chested, making even Remy’s muscled and lithe form seem small and fragile in comparison.

                He extended a thick palm for Remy to shake; “Eli LaBouff, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

                “Oui, Remy LeBeau, at your service, M’sieur.”

                Remy noted how the man’s eyes seemed to lit up at the sound of his accent, and he withdrew his hand slowly.

                “LeBeau you say? You wouldn’t happen to have any relation to Jean-Luc LeBeau, of the LeBeau Plantation would you?”

                “I’m his youngest, oui.”

                The grin continued to broaden. “Well! How about that? What a mighty small world it is after all,” he grinned, though Remy noted he looked faintly nervous as well, little beads of sweat appearing at the edges of his neatly trimmed side-burns. “I know your daddy well, Mr. LeBeau. He’s a good man, a good, good man. And quite the business man as well; I hope he’s well.”

                “Very, merci.” Remy nodded, “Is dere somet’ing I can help you wit M’sieur, if you don’t mind me cuttin’ to de chase? Been a long night, and I’m afraid I’m not feelin’ my best.”

                “Yes, I can see that.” The man answered with a concerned nod. “Though, if you don’t mind my saying so, you have still managed to turn more than a few heads.”

                Remy blinked and glanced around, but no one was looking in their direction, except for the cook, who was glaring at them through the open window. But this was his usual expression.

                “Is there anything I can get you? I noticed you haven’t touched your food; I find a good meal always sets me right, even after the most harrowing evening.” He turned suddenly and called, his booming voice startling the rest of the diners; “Tia! Oh Tia! Bring my breakfast over here, sugar, if you would please, and give this charming young man the same! Put it all on my tab, darlin’, thank you so much.”

                “Oh no, M’sieur, I couldn’t—“

                “Ah, ah, not another word about it; you eat your fill, please.”

                Tia appeared a moment later with a heaping tray of beignets, fried eggs, hashbrowns, grits, toast and orange juice, which she deposited on the tiny table next before them, glancing back and forth at the two men.

                “You’re a dream, darling. Here you go,” he said, handing her a thick wad of bills. The girl tried to refuse, but he tucked it into her apron pocket.

                “Don’t go playin’ modest! You’ve been workin’ so hard, and I know some of these bums don’t give you more than pocket change. You take that and spend it on _you_ , you hear me? Don’t go squirreling it away for a rainy day, like I know you do. Live a little!”

                “You’re too good to me, Mr. LaBouff.”

                “Only as good as you and your Mama have been to me and mine.”

                Gambit glanced between the two, more confused than ever. “You two know each other?”

                Tia nodded; “Oh we go way back. Anything else I can get you, gentlemen?”

                “I think we’re good here,” the ginger-haired man nodded, taking his napkin and placing it on his lap before digging into the heaping plate of sugar dusted pastries. “Could you give us a little privacy?”

                “Of course.” Tia nodded, and then flashed Remy a look that the Cajun seemed certain he had read wrong. Tentatively, eyeing the now food laden table, he sipped his coffee and looked back at Mr. LaBouff.

                “M’sieur,”

                “Please, call me Eli,”

                “Eli,” Remy corrected with a smile, “You say you know my father…can I assume you also known his business?”

                The ginger haired man nodded again. “That I do.”

                “And…if I may venture a guess, do you also know mine?”

                Eli finished his pastry and nodded, suddenly looking faintly flushed. Remy leveled his gaze and steadied himself, opening himself to the man’s empathic presence, needing to be sure.

                Eli was nervous; much more so than he let on. Butterflies in your stomach, heart racing, sweaty-palm kind of nervous. Remy intimidated him nearly as much as he attracted him…and he was _very_ attracted. He had never done this sort of thing before…and there was a twinge of fear; fear that he was assuming something he shouldn’t, and about to make an ass of himself.

                Remy exhaled as he let the feelings go and found himself returning the man’s smiles for the first time. He reached out and put his and over Eli’s thick one and looked at him carefully; “No worries, mon ami. You can ask what you want to; I’m listening.”

                Eli blinked several times, face turning even darker pink and then nodded, straightening his tie and collar, food forgotten. “Well, I must say…that’s a bit of a relief!” he chuckled. “Please forgive me; I know I must seem somewhat ridiculous coming to you…a man of my age, of my… _type_ , seeking out someone as stunningly attractive as yourself.”

                “Not at all, M’sieur. In fact, to be very honest, you’re a breath of fresh air.” Remy laughed, feeling bizarrely relieved. “First time?”

                “Oh yes…” the man nodded. “My wife, God rest her soul, passed away when our daughter was still a child. I’ve never had the time nor the energy…but now I find myself nearing that empty nest stage, and I’m…lonely, as you might imagine…for companionship.”

                Again he looked slightly nervous, eyes searching Remy’s for any sign of offense or misunderstanding.

                “I would be happy to provide dat,” Remy answered. “You…you don’t seem surprised by my appearance.” He added.

                “Come again?”

                “My eyes. Some people…dey make dem feel unsettled. You know, dat old poem, about how in de the South de Devil is a beautiful boy…?” He hated that poem, it had been quoted to him once by Julien Boudreax, Marius’s son, during the very early days of Remy’s induction. Remy hated Julien; almost as Julien hated Remy.

                Eli laughed; “Ha! Oh all the superstitious hoo-ha! No, no, I assure you, Remy your eyes are…well, they are just as fascinating as the rest of you.”

                Remy glanced across the restaurant and noticed a few more eyes were watching them now, ears were perked, and even the cook seemed to be trying to listen in. He looked back to Eli and put his hand over his again; “Would you like to continue dis conversation in private, mon ami? We can go over details den.”

                “I’m not going anywhere until I see you eat something,” the ginger haired man retorted with a wink, pushing a beignet towards Remy. “As for details, we can discuss it all right here. And if anyone wants to listen,” he said a little louder, “that’s on their heads.”

                There was a shuffle of seats as people returned to their food and tried to look uninterested. Remy was impressed.

                “Now then,” the larger man continued, clearing his throat. “I would like to first ask you to accompany me to dinner tonight at the Omni Royal; as my guest. Do you have fitting attire? Nevermind, I’ll take care of that too.”

                “Oh that’s not—“

                “I insist. You look like you’ve had a long night, darlin’, and a fresh set of clothes always makes me feel like a new man. You take this, buy yourself something nice for the occasion. I’ll send a car for you at eight o’clock. Will that be alright?”

                Remy nodded, staring at the envelope of cash the man had handed him, which he quickly put on the table out of the way. “Absolutely, M’sieur.

                “Ah-ah! Eli.”

                “Pardon,” Remy apologized. “Eli…I look forward to it.”

                “As do I, Remy, as do I.” He glanced at his watch and frowned. “Damn, is that really the time? I’m late.” He put his napkin on the table and started to call for Tia, who appeared almost immediately and began wrapping up his food.

                “Isn’t she a dream?” he grinned. He leaned over the table, took Remy’s hand and actually kissed it, making both he and Tia stare. “Until tonight, Remy. In the meantime, get some rest and take care of yourself. I like a good conversationalist.”

                Gambit nodded dumbly and watched as the other man took his order and left the restaurant, leaving everything slightly more still in his wake.

                The waitress slapped him up side of the head. “Pick your jaw up off the floor…what do you think you’re doing propositioning one of my customers?!”

                “I—he—He asked _me_!” Remy hissed, swatting at her. He reached for the envelope and opened it, and his eyes grew even wider. Eli had left him five hundred dollars in cash. Beside him the woman gasped and Remy shushed her, tucking the money hurriedly into his pocket.

                “I…what do I do?”

                “Why are you asking me?”

                “He’s your customer!”

                “Well apparently he’s yours now, honey.”

 

**

 

                After collecting himself and forcing down a few mouthfuls of food, Remy made his way back home. He opted not to enter by the front door, noticing several cars had pulled around the gravel lot which circled the garden plot in front of the wide porch. His father was entertaining, and by the look of it, they were not clients or family friends, but other members of the Guild Council.

                Gambit crept along the line of trees that edged the lawn until he made it around the corner of the house, then made a mad dash towards the right wing of the house, scaling the porch to the second level and managing to wiggle his way into his own bedroom window.

                The room was dark, but he was not alone. Henri must have been passing by the door and heard Remy push open the window. As the younger LeBeau stumbled inside, the older boy leaned in the doorway, giving him a long, thoughtful, and somewhat incredulous stare.

                “Are you breaking into your own bedroom, mon frere?”

                Remy nearly jumped out of his skin at sound of his voice and very nearly took his head off with a playing card. Luckily he stopped himself before throwing it, and let the glowing card turn to ash in his fingertips.

                “Goddammit, I’m gonna put a bell on you!” Remy hissed at him, moving towards the door and dragging the older man inside before quietly shutting the door behind him.

                “You look rough…” Henri mused, then took Remy’s arm and turned him towards him, getting a better look at the state he was in. “What did you do?”

                “Not’ing,” Remy muttered.

                “You’re a better liar than that. What’s going on?” his brother asked. “Why you come sneakin’ in like dat? You don’t want Daddy know you’re here?”

                “Non…he’ll just worry. He got enough to deal wit right now it look like,” Remy answered.

                “How was your dinner with that old creep?”

                Remy startled, suddenly remembering that both his brother and father were still under whatever spell Essex had cast on them. He fumbled, unsure what to say. “It…didn’t work out.”

                Henri gave him a long, narrow, appraising look that sent a shiver down Remy’s spine and made him feel way too exposed. He turned away, searching his closet for something clean and suitable to throw on, pulling out a duffle bag as well, and began tossing items into it.

                “If it didn’t work out, why are you packing a bag?”

                “I got another client.” The auburn haired man answered, growing somewhat irritated by the interrogation. “Henri, please, leave me alone. I’m fine, and you’re just being nosey.”

                “Fine,” the ginger haired man sighed, returning towards the door. “But it may interest you to know dat Daddy is downstairs dealing wit de fallout of your drunken escapades last night.”

                Remy stopped cold, turning to stare at him. “What?”

                “Apparently Julien and his friends saw you and Jericho making a scene wit Dr. Essex at some wedding last night?”

                “L’enfer…!” Remy muttered dismally.

                “He warned you about bringing Jericho into Guild business—“

                “I didn’t! It wasn’t intentional… _look_ , Henri, Dr. Essex is _bad news._ Yes, Jericho and I were drinking, and yes we confronted him, but only after he stalked us into dat wedding. He seemed to t’ink dat my services come as a package; he wanted sex and he wasn’t going to get it. Not after what he done…”

                “Which is what exactly?”

                Remy didn’t know how to explain it; Henri wasn’t the type to believe in the strange and fantastic, and his entanglement with Essex was becoming just that. “Jericho punched him because he attacked me…and he attacked me _again_ that night. It was bad, Henri…very bad.”

                Remy shrugged out of his coat and pulled off his shirt, turning to let his adoptive sibling take a look at the dark bruising that now marked his back and shoulders. The older LeBeau suddenly went stiff, eyes sharp and angry.

                “Stay here, I’m going to get Daddy,”

                “Non! Dat’s just what dey want…if Marius and Julien are down dere now, it’s cause dey want to prove to him and de others dat I’m not worthy of being a Thief. You know how dey feel about me; dey’ll use dis as an excuse to have me thrown out, or to remove him from power. I’m not gonna let dat happen.”

                “Remy you were assaulted, they need to know the truth!”

                “Let me _handle it_ , Henri…”

                His brother looked utterly exasperated. “Alright, fine…so who’s dis new client? He want you to steal, or for company?”

                “Company…thankfully.”

                “And you can trust him?”

                “Well…he came to me when I looked like this and was still a perfect gentlemen, and gave me money up front, just to have dinner wit him…I t’ink I’ll be able to handle it.”

                The other man looked dubious, but nodded. “Fine. I won’t say not’ing to him. But you call me, or I’ll be lookin’, understand?”

                “Oui.”

                Henri nodded and quietly excused himself from the room, leaving Remy to continue his work in solitude.

 

**

                At eight fifteen dat night, he found himself stepping outside the black town car onto the sidewalk in front of the prestigious and elegant Omni Royal hotel. He’d been inside the hotel before with clients, and recognized that he was dealing with a very high class client, who was not exactly afraid to be seen with him in mixed company, but also expected a certain level of discretion.

                Remy’s adjusted his new tie and made towards the door. The new suit, black, expensive, and well tailored helped pull him into character, reminding him that for the moment, all his real-world troubles had to be set aside. All his focus needed to be on pleasing his date for the evening; he would have to be at his best.

                Normally, this wasn’t a problem, but after last night and his argument with Jericho…he found himself strangely self-conscious, second guessing every move.

                His name had been left at the door, and Remy was immediately escorted into one of the hotel lounges, where there seemed to be a live performance for a crowd of maybe thirty or forty people; all well-dressed and talking quietly among themselves.

                Eli was easy to spot, sitting tall in his chair by the long windows overlooking the street below. Remy could make out the steeples of the St. Louis Cathedral just beyond.

                The cinnamon haired man looked up at him, all but beaming as the attendant showed Remy to his seat. He even stood to greet him, giving the man a quick kiss on the cheek and pulling out his chair. Remy repressed a smirk…Eli was obviously not accustomed to courting men, and his manners were charmingly old fashioned. It was endearing, if not a little out of place to the younger man.

                “I am so glad to see you,” Mr. LaBouff said, returning to his own seat. “You look…stunning. I do hope the car found you alright, and that you weren’t rushed at all…”

                “Everyt’ing was perfect, M’sieur, thank you.” Remy answered. He kept his hair down, letting the shorter strands fall across his forehead in an effort to cover to the gash. He’d removed Tante’s bandage and replaced it with a smaller one, hoping to lessen its startling effect.

                His eyes wandered to the bucket next to the table, and he instantly recognized a bottle of expensive champagne, waiting to be opened. Indeed, Eli must have had high hopes for the evening.

                “Thank you again for agreeing to meet with me tonight,” Eli said, “As I mentioned before…I’m rather new to this sort of arrangement. I hope you don’t think me too forward; I’m a very to the point sort of man.”

                “Lately, M’sieur, I t’ink dat’s just what I need.” Remy answered honestly. He smiled, trying to relax and open up his Charm influence a little at a time as usually did with clients. “So…tell me about yourself.”

                “Well…what do you want to know?”

                “Everyt’ing,” Remy answered, ignoring the waiter as he opened the champagne and poured them both a glass. He kept his focus on Eli, watching his eyes, his hands, the corners of his mouth, noting the little ticks and twitches, little things that gave away his personality.

                “Well, I’m a very wealthy widower, who owns a great deal of stock in what used to be a very large sugar plantation. Currently I’m city councilman, though re-election is coming up all too soon and the competition is steep this year…” he paused and smiled. “But I do like to keep work separate from my private life. I’ve always found that mixing the two leads to unwanted stress.”

                “Couldn’t agree more.” Remy answered.

                “How’s your head?”

                Remy touched the bandage self consciously, “Much better, thank you for asking.”

                “You seemed like you had a rather long night when we met this morning. If you don’t mind my asking, how came you by that?”

                Remy paused, not sure what to say. He bought himself a moment to think by sipping his drink, and focusing his Empathy a little more on Eli, wondering what the man must be thinking then.

                Curiosity was prevalent in his emotions, concern as well. Not just for Remy, but logically for himself as well. He wasn’t the kind of man who liked to play rough in that sort of man, and he definitely wasn’t the kind of man who wanted to tangle himself up with someone prone to brawling or other bad behavior.

                Gambit locked eyes him, still impressed that the man did not seem at all put off by their strange pigmentation. He decided, for tonight, that honesty was the best policy. “I ran into some trouble with another client who got a bit of control. But it’s done wit now.”

                “Well…I’m very sorry to hear that. Shameful, really, the behavior of some people. I do hope you’re alright; if I had known—“

                Remy reached across the table and put his hand over the paler man’s to calm him; “It’s quite alright, mon ami. I’m fine; thank you thinking of me though…you’re very kind.”

                He was relieved to realize this statement was true; Eli seemed like a kind and generous soul. If there was any dirty laundry to be found, it must be buried deep; Remy couldn’t sense any ill-will coming from the man at all.

                “Before we go any further, Eli, I suppose we should discuss the details.” He said then, squaring his shoulders and looking at the man more clearly so that he understood that this was still, in fact, business.

                “Right you are, my boy! My these bubbles are goin’ right to my head, how could I have been careless…” the ginger haired council men nodded, adjusting his tie and taking a drink of water to clear his throat. “I propose we consider this a trial arrangement, Remy. As I told you before, this is all very new to me and I...haven’t _courted_ anyone in a long time. I may be a bit rusty. You’re also the first young man I’ve ever considered for such an evening; I wouldn’t want to disappoint you if in fact I am less than good company.”

                “M’sieur, you needn’t concern yourself wit all dat. I’m yours for de evening, for…whatever you want. No wooing is necessary; I’m already yours.” It was the Charm talking; all smooth and sultry and lusty, and Remy knew the words hit home quickly from the faint flush of red that came to the man’s faintly freckled skin.

                “Well, call me old fashioned then, Remy, but I prefer to think of this as more of a mutual exchange of time and affection. If at any point in the night you feel uncomfortable, you are more than free to walk away, payment in full, no hard feelings.”

                Remy blinked. He’d never had a client come up with such terms before; usually it was Remy laying down the rules and putting down boundaries, safe words, whatever was needed to ensure his own protection, as well as keeping any more volatile clients from going back on the deal. It stunned him.

                “Remy? Have I upset you?”

                “Non,” The Cajun gasped quickly, straightening himself. “Not at all. I’m just…pleasantly surprised. But I have to ask you, mon cher…where do you see dis evening taking us?”

                “I have a room upstairs, when you’re ready to retire for the evening.” Eli answered.

                The auburn haired man nodded; “And…not to be crass…what den?”

                It seemed to be Eli’s turn to compose himself over his drink. But Remy caught that spike of low burning lust coming off him, and even saw a flash of what the man was thinking; the two of them lying in bed, naked, kissing, touching…but nothing more lurid than that. It was quite romantic actually; considering some of the mental images Remy got off of people in these moments.

                He thought again about Sinister and it must have showed on his face because Eli looked suddenly concerned. “We’ll see how we’re feeling when we get to the room, darling. Now, no more shop talk! Time to tuck in…”

                “Well, dere is de matter of de—“

                “What’s your average rate for a night?”

                “Fifteen hundred for de night…wit’out any added perks…” Remy said, trying to be discreet. He could feel eyes on him, and one of the waitresses paused as if to hear him better. He winked at her and looked away. “We can discuss dose later, if you’re interested.”

                “Done,” Eli grinned. “Now…let’s eat.”

               

                They ate and drank; finding that conversation came easy between them, despite their obvious differences. Remy gave off the air of effortless charm, always smiling, always laughing, quick with a compliment or funny story. But he was more careful with himself than he usually was; nursing the same glass of champagne for an hour or more before daring another.

                He needn’t have been so worried though; Eli was nothing but the perfect gentlemen for the entire dinner, never becoming crass or obscene in his flirtatiousness, keeping things light and avoiding delving too deeply into more personal issues; despite his knowledge of Remy’s association with the Guild.

                It was almost midnight before they finally finished their drinks and desert and Eli walked the younger man, who was clasped to his arm, out into the lobby. The barrel chested council men paused at the foot of the double-wide staircase , his big smile making those wrinkles at the corner of his eyes appear again. “Well, my dear, _that_ was the most enjoyable dinner I have had in a _very_ long time.”

                “I have to agree, mon cher,” Remy answered. “I never would have guessed you were such a prankster, or had such a penchant for cards…though I’m not sure which of us would be more devious in a poker game.”

                Eli chuckled warmly and looked at him a bit more closely. “Well…shall we say goodnight?” he asked. The Cajun could see in his eyes that he was nervous; hoping the answer would be otherwise, but not daring to hope for too much.

                Remy leaned a little closer and kissed the man’s cheek and then his lips, realizing this was the first time all evening he’d done more than touch hands with the man. “I don’t t’ink I’m quite ready for our evening to end, Eli. Dat is, if you’re not.”

                The spark of excitement and anticipation that came off the man was almost like a burst of light to Remy’s Empathic senses and he couldn’t help but laugh when the man pulled him in close and put his arm around his waist, kissing him again, despite the fact that others were staring.

                They made their way up the stairs, then took the elevator to the third floor suites. Eli had booked one of the larger balcony suites for the night. He held the door for Remy, and quickly put the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the outside of the door.

                The Thief looked around at the lush, expensive room and the large king size bed with his usual appraising eye. As with all his clients, he was already making a mental note of whatever exits were available to him, what might pose a weapon or an obstacle in case he needed to escape an escalating situation, and of course, what might be worth stealing for later…

                Eli came to stand behind him and Remy tensed slightly, only to feel the man move aside his hair and kiss the back of his neck softly. He sighed, feeling a warm rush race through him. The man rubbed his shoulders and pulled off his suit jacket, discarding it over the back of an arm chair and ran his thick palm across his shoulder and down his back.

                Remy felt a little twinge of pain as the man brushed across the bruises there, but remained composed, reaching back to catch Eli and pull him into another kiss, one with a bit more abandon this time. LaBouff sighed and pulled him in tight, seeming hungry to get the man close to him and feel him pressed against him so firmly.

                He _had_ been lonely; Remy realized, letting his control drop further so that he could experience the man’s depth a little more fully. He’d been lonely for years, craving companionship, someone he could hold and touch. He was very much a man who needed someone to dote upon, someone to cuddle up close to and shower with affection. He craved that kind of human closeness. But the timing had never been right it seemed, or his guilt would sneak up on him. He had loved his wife very much. It was hard to let go.

                This was perfect, Remy thought, tugging the man out of his own blazer and working hurriedly with his vest and tie, wanting to feel and touch more. Eli was safe; he could lose himself here without fearing what would happen next. The man was loving, generous, nervous and inexperienced. He wasn’t a risk. It was the opposite of Remy usually sought in partners, but also what he needed desperately right now.

                His hands were working at Eli’s belt, but the older man caught his hand and brought it up to his mouth, kissing them instead. “We’re in no rush, darling…though I am pleased to see you so eager.”

                “ _Pardon_ ,” Remy whispered, pouring the french on thick, knowing the older man loved the sound of it. “Take all de time you need, mon cher. I can be patient.”

                “Can you?” Eli chuckled, running his thumb along Remy’s chin. “You don’t look like the patient type, sweetheart. But I don’t mind…”

                He kissed Remy again and lead him over to the bed. Gambit dropped down on the thick, damasked patterned coverlet and pulled off his shoes and socks while Eli carefully and considerately removed his dress shirt and undershirt, glancing for a moment at Remy in a self conscious manner.

                “You know, I used to box, back in the day…probably when I was your age. I was in much better shape then. Had a bit more muscle than fat on the old brisket, if you understand…”

                Remy smiled sympathetically and pulled him in, looking the man over and running his hands across the broader man’s pale skin. He was firm in most places, and smooth, and the little bit of girth he carried in his stomach seemed more natural and appealing than others. Remy kissed his chest and made Eli moan. “Pretty good fighter myself…maybe we spar sometime.”

                “Now that wouldn’t be fair,” Eli chided. “I’d be too afraid of bruising up that pretty face.”

                The line was corny but endearing, and Gambit let the man kiss him again while he undid Remy’s shirt and slid it off his back. It wasn’t until Eli’s bare hand came across his bruised skin that he gasped and pulled back slightly.

                Eli seemed startled at the reaction, wondering what he’d done wrong, but he quickly found the source of the problem. Remy cringed inwardly feeling the warm current of the man’s lust suddenly sour with concern.

                “Good Lord, boy! What happened to you?”

                “Nothin’, cher, leave it be…I’m fine, really.”

                The blue eyed man hesitated, not sure he believed him. Remy felt him teetering and knew if he didn’t act quickly the mood would be ruined completely. The Cajun pulled him into another kiss, which was softer this time, but no less hungry, and pressed himself up against the big man, wrapping his arms around his neck. His Charm and Empathy tapped easily into what Eli craved at his core, and he adapted accordingly. “Don’t let dis spoil our fun, cher. I know you won’t hurt me like dat; you’ll take care of me, won’t you?”

                “Of course I will,” Eli replied, completely snared once more, kissing Remy more fervently and laying him back on the bed, straddling the smaller man and leaving a trail of kisses down his torso. Remy closed his eyes, relaxing, trying not let a little giggle escape here and there from the scratch of the cinnamon haired man’s mustache. Only once he knew Eli had regained interest did he let his powers subside a little, allowing them both to have slightly clearer heads.

                LaBouff kept on, as if nothing had happened, pulling Remy out of his dress pants and admiring the tight black briefs he was wearing. The councilman hesitated a moment, then brushed his hand lightly over Remy’s arousal, making the smaller man moan quietly.

                “You ever touched a man before?”

                “Not like this,” the larger man answered, lying beside him and taking his time, working the Cajun up until he was fully hard and straining against the fabric of his underwear. “Thought about it plenty of times. Just…never seemed the right time to experiment…”

                Eli reached for his waistband and tugged it down, getting a look at what was underneath and touching him more directly, which made Remy hum and squirm slightly, raising his hips up for more contact. LaBouff was ensnared, looking back and forth from the man’s cock to his face, watching his reactions.

                Remy for his part was impressed; he had expected the man to be a bit more shy, more clumsy. But his Charm had a way of making people feel braver than they were, and Eli seemed to want him, genuinely.

                He rolled towards the bigger man then, breaking contact and pushed himself up against him again, kissing more passionately as he finally convinced his partner to shed the rest of his own clothing. Even then, Eli was modest, and hurried them both under the blankets, folding Remy in a cocoon between the sheets and himself that made the younger man smile and laugh some more. Everything was warm and close, and even the faint din of music from outside in the courtyard and more distant sound of traffic seemed to fade completely after a moment.

                Eli was grinding himself against Remy’s thigh, enjoying the friction but needing more. Remy tried to reach down and touch him, but his client pinned his hand each time, wanting to go unassisted. But finally, the need was overwhelming.

                “Do you want to be inside me?” Remy asked, knowing the man was too shy to voice the request himself.

                The blue eyed man looked down at his momentary lover, looking flushed and needy and embarrassed; “I’m so sorry, my dear…I’m afraid, as experienced I am in other manners, that I am at a loss in this one aspect.”

                Remy nuzzled him, “S’alright, cher…let me take care of you.”

                He rolled the man over so that he was on his back and climbed over him, straddling him. He teased him for a bit, stroking him and kissing the skin of his stomach and thighs, flashing mischievous little glances up at the man’s face now and again before bowing his own and earning a long moan from his lover.

                When he was finally ready, Remy grabbed for his pants pocket and produced a little packet of lubricant, which he quickly applied to Eli’s skin. It made the man shiver, but Remy kept him too on edge to think about how strange it was. The Cajun positioned himself over the larger man, steadying himself and letting Eli brace his thighs as he slowly eased the man inside of him.

                The councilman’s eyes were rolling and shut tight long before Remy was even fully penetrated, making Gambit grin and groan, enjoying teasing him. It was going to be a short ride, he guessed, and he was somewhat relieved that Eli was more on the average size, so that he would not be so sore from lack of preparation.

                After a few moments of letting the man get used to the new sensation, Remy began to move, rising and falling slowly as he rode the man, feeling him start to push deeper and brush lightly against his sweet spot.

                Eli’s eyes were open now, staring, watching Remy ride him so expertly, like he could barely believe this was actually happening. Remy grinned, feeling himself starting to sweat faintly as he picked up pace, feeding off Eli’s lust until he was submerged in it completely. In a light headed moment of bliss, he let go of all control, letting his Charm flow freely.

                Eli’s fingers dug more firmly into his flesh and he started to buck up into Remy on his own and Gambit gasped loudly, feeling the force of the thrust jab at his prostate enough to send a zing of pleasure through him that made him shout, raking his nails down Eli’s torso.

                Suddenly, his lover was surging forward, wrapping one arm around Remy’s back while the other held his hips in place as he flipped him over. Remy gasped as he came dislodged from the man and felt the full weight of the much larger male suddenly bearing down on him.

                For a moment he expected things to take a much rougher turn, but Eli simply smiled at him, re-positioning himself against him; “I think I get the jist of it now, darling…” he breathed before thrusting forward and making Remy’s moan loudly, grabbing the bed sheets and arching up into him. The man may not have been as big of some of his other customers but _damn_ if he didn’t know how to use what he had!

                Everything dissolved into a close, sweaty heated phase. Eli was a quick learner, and Remy’s Charm pushed away all of his hesitations and inhibitions so that he was not afraid to ask for what he wanted, and give the same. The short and sweet ride that Remy anticipated was soon a forgotten memory, lost in a tangle of sweaty sheets, mumbled gasp, pleas and curses and love bites all to the endless jarring rhythm that seemed to keep him on edge for what felt like hours.

                Remy came finally, howling and shaking, splattering across skin and wrinkled sheets with abandon. Eli must have come sometime before because the moment he started to calm the ginger pulled out of him shakily and collapsed beside him, panting heavily and nuzzling his face into Remy’s sweaty hair. “Lord have mercy on me…oh Remy…sugar, that was….that was _somethin’!”_

                Remy laughed, though doing so made him light headed and he rolled to curl against LaBouff’s thick arm, wrapping around and resting his head on his shoulder. “It sure was, cher…oh it sure was…”

                They laid there in the aftermath until the heat began to cool to a simmer and the sweat began to dry on their skin. Remy felt heavy and satisfied, as he usually did after rigorous sex. His influence had calmed, leaving him feeling somewhat drained. But the job wasn’t over, not yet.

                His training replaced the reckless impulsive high of his powers and he rolled over, sitting up and sweeping his tussled hair out of his face, beaming down at Eli with his sweetest expression. “Now, M’sieur,” he all but purred, “Are you completely satisfied wit my services?”

                “More than so, my dear…” Eli chuckled, pulling Remy down for another quick kiss.

                Remy nodded and pulled away and began fumbling around the bed for his some sign of his clothing. That’s when he felt Eli’s hand on the small of his back. “Remy…there’s no rush. Is there?”

                The Cajun paused, studying the older man’s face carefully. He wanted to be absolutely sure, before he agreed to anything, that Eli was speaking honestly and as himself, without any of his Charm encouraging him.

                But there seemed no sign of insincerity or clouded judgement on Eli’s part. He seemed genuinely taken with Remy.

                “No, cher…no rush at all.”

                He slid back down in the sheets and let Eli wrap him up again as the bigger man curled around him and cautiously stroked his back, careful of his tender spots.

                In the quiet, Remy let his mind wander back to Jericho and Henri, and then to darker places, back to Essex’s face as he was grinding against him in the alley. Remy frowned and burrowed deeper into Eli’s embrace, a little flicker of sparks shooting from his fingers.

                Fuck the rest of them; he didn’t need Jericho or the Guild; he certainly didn’t need people like Essex. Remy could manage his powers without anyone’s advice or help; Eli had just proven that to him. So he decided to stay and play out this new hand he’d been dealt. For once, he felt like he was holding all the aces.

 

***

 

                Remy looked up, rolling his shoulders, “Well…after dat, Eli asked me to stay on wit him for awhile. It was a good time, those two weeks I had with him. Some of de best…” He smiled fondly and glanced around his audience.

                There was a perceptive change in their demeanor. All three of them were sitting a bit more closely, listening a bit more carefully, with strangely misty gazes. It took a moment for Remy to realize that in his reminiscence, he’d let his Charm slip.

                “Um…everyone okay?” he asked, somewhat sheepishly. “Hope I um, didn’t get a little too detailed…it’d just been so long since I thought about it…I guess I kinda got swept up in de moment. Desole mes amis.”

                Beside him Logan grunted faintly, nuzzling him. “Cajun…you paint a picture, I’ll say that. Now how about reeling in some of that Charm darlin’? Yer makin’ it a bit hard to sit comfortably in these jeans.”

                Remy chuckled and nuzzled Logan, noting that the man was in fact rather aroused, but trying to will the urge away. Not a simple task for Wolverine.

                Storm sighed and moved in closer as well; “It sounds romantic, what you had with this Eli. I’m surprised you never mentioned him before.” She said, rubbing his arm and cuddling close, though Remy recognized that she hadn’t gone unaffected by his power.

                “Aw, Ro, I wish you could have met him. Such a sweet, sweet man. Took real good care of me for awhile, and not just in de bedroom. Was one of the few clients I ever had that I actually _liked_ and wanted to stay with. I’m sure Mon Pere was probably hoping I’d stay wit him; where I’d be ‘looked after’. Probably just means dat it wouldn’t have worked in the de long run…”

                He looked up then and noticed that Hank was making for the door. “Hank? Everyt’ing ok?”

                Beast did little more than grunt at him and disappeared hurriedly out the door. The three looked after him in surprise and Remy stood, “Hank? Hank, what’s--?”

                “I’m sorry,” Hank muttered, more guttural than usual, “I just… _can’t.”_ He dashed down the hallway at a trot before Remy could get any closer, leaving the auburn haired southerner blinking in his wake.

                “I…I think I offended him.” Remy blinked, feeling taken aback and a bit embarrassed that Hank had had such a reaction to his past indiscretions.

                “No, I’m sure that’s not it,” Ororo tried to soothe, though she seemed somewhat baffled herself. She’d known Hank for a long time, she knew he came from a far more sheltered, even “wholesome” background than any of them, but this kind of reaction seemed extreme.

                Logan was marching past them, looking deeply annoyed. “I’ll figure out what’s stuck in his craw…”

                “Logan, don’t—!”

                But Wolverine ignored them, bounding down the corridor after Hank.

 

                He followed the blue furred feral’s scent until he came to the door of one of the student bathrooms. Logan snarled, feeling angry as he stood there, glaring at the door. “Alright, McCoy, come out here, we need to talk.” He demanded.

                No answer.

                Logan growled, rubbing his temples, “Look, I understand that the Cajun’s life style may be a little out of your comfort zone, but dammit Hank, you—“

                He heard a noise, like a mewl or moan. The dark haired feral paused, wondering if he’d heard it right, but it came again a second later, a little more breathy this time, a little more rough. Tentatively Wolverine pressed his fingers against the door and let it open just a crack.

                His nose crinkled at the usual bathroom smells, but was quick to pick up on something else. Something heavy and heated and musky. There was another little grunt, followed by a shuddering breath and sound of skin against skin.

                Logan moved silently into the room, not sure if something was interfering with his senses; maybe he was going crazy. But he knew that smell; not just on an instinctive level but on a personal one. Logan never forgot the scent of someone he’d been intimate with, much less someone he practically loved…

                He peered around the corner of the wall that divided the entrance way to the rest of the bathroom. Hank was leaning against the wall, head bowed, his hand shoved heatedly down the open front of his pants, stroking himself roughly and growling and moaning.

                Logan froze for a second, then quickly ducked out of sight again, listening as Hank rasped and sighed until his breath hitched and he emitted a long staggered moan that died off into a whimper.

                The smaller feral remained rooted to the spot, brow furrowed, trying to process what he’d just seen. Remy’s Charm was particular potent when it came to feral mutants; it acted much the way pheromones did, but on a deeper level, somehow bridging the gap between their primal urge to mate and their higher sense of love and lust. Unchecked it could be overwhelming to someone like Hank…but Logan wondered if that was the only reason.

                A few moments later, Hank left the bathroom, hurriedly straightening his clothing, and nearly jumped out of his fur when he saw Wolverine leaning there against the wall, waiting for him.

                “Logan!”

                The dark haired man eyed him evenly, not giving away that he’d seen or heard what Hank had been doing. “Not like you to run out in the middle of things like that, Beasty,” the shorter man mused. “What’s got yer fur up?”

                Logan paused, looking nervous and somewhat cornered, perhaps even irritated. “It’s…personal, Logan. That’s all. I needed a moment to collect myself; Remy’s control has continued to improve, but it is far from mastered and…well, that story…”

                “I know you don’t run into this sort of thing back in Illinois, Hank, but the man is pouring his heart out. Apparently, he feels like you can be trusted to understand. Do I got to tell him otherwise?”

                Hank frowned. “Of course not. And don’t take that tone with me…”

                Logan pushed away from the wall, eyes narrowed, seeming brighter with intensity. Hank recognized his stance, the way he seemed to circle him; the animal in Logan perceived a challenge to his mate. Hank licked his lips nervously as the smaller man stepped closer to him.

                “Hank…I trust you. You know that; there isn’t much you could do that would make me feel otherwise. And I know I don’t got to tell ya what he’s been through, and that he needs people who can look past the façade…see him as a person…not just a plaything.”

                “I have nothing but respect for Remy,” McCoy answered, somewhat stiffly. “Remember who you are speaking to you, Wolverine. I’m not Scott.”

                That made them both go cold for a moment, and Logan finally bowed his head. “Sorry…can’t help but be protective of him.”

                “I know.” Hank sighed, sound a little more like himself. “But all my feral urges aside, Logan, you must know that I would never…he’s your _mate._ And you both have Ororo. I’m happy for you, all of you. I would never want to anything to hurt any of you.”

                Hank McCoy had never been so sincere in his whole life.

                Logan felt a little twinge in his heart and stomach, looking at the way Hank was watching him now, sensing some turmoil under the surface. Part of him wanted to know more, wanted to take Hank by the hand and remind him how much he meant to him. But he couldn’t find the words, and the wounds still felt fresh, even after all this time. Logan realized that as much as he still cherished Hank, he hadn’t forgiven him.

                “I need to, um, freshen up. I’ll meet up with you three later for drinks. Apologize to Remy for me, will you?”

                “You can do it yourself. Give us till dark, then meet us in Ro’s room. Won’t be any kids to bother us up there.”

                “Are you sure?”

                “LeBeau wants you there, then so do I, furball.”

 

***


	6. Chapter 6

 

**

                When Logan and Hank did not return right away, Remy took to pacing the halls. His face as a mask of indifference, hands shoved in his pockets, head bowed. Storm kept stride beside him, saying nothing at first, doing her best to ignore the waves of anxiety and agitation that were coming off him, though he pretended to be aloof.

                “It bothers you, what he thinks of you, doesn’t it?” she asked.

                “Non,” Remy replied, maybe a little too quickly. “Can’t expect everyone to understand or agree wit what I do. And dat’s alright, no hard feelin’s. But, Hank knows t’ings about me, t’ings from when you two first brought me here. He’s always been so understanding…wonder if now he may look on all dat differently.”

                Storm stopped him, hand on his arm. “Remy, those are two completely different things you’re speaking of. What happened to you in the tunnels and your private life in New Orleans have nothing to do with each other.”

                She looked at him with deep sincerity, needing him to understand. It shocked her a bit to think that her lover connected these two threads together in his own mind, much less expected others to do the same. Remy just shrugged; “I know you’re right cher, but people don’t always feel dat way.”

                “I think he was just…caught off guard. Henry has never been very comfortable in his own skin, even before his mutation became so accelerated, and you’re so very at ease with yours…you’re simply from two different worlds.”

                “And what about you, cherie?”

                “A thief can always appreciate a fellow thief’s methods. Honestly, I would have traded places with you in a moment. You and the Guild seem like you were at the top of the food chain…I struggled at nearly the bottom for a long time before I left and found my tribe. But I would have died for a chance to pull some of jobs you must have been offered…the thrill of it all, you know?” She smiled, but Remy could see the wistfulness in her pale eyes.

                The Cajun caught her hand and pulled her in, hugging her close for a moment. “I’m sorry, Ro. Wish I woulda known about you den…quiet de team we coulda made, non?”

                “I was long gone from the thieves and Ciaro before you could have ever done anything about it, Remy. But you’re sweet to think of it anyway. It wasn’t a fate I would have chosen for myself, but it made me appreciate things so much more. If it hadn’t been for my time in Ciaro, and then Kenya…I doubt I would be the woman I am today.”

                “So you believe it all turned out for de best, oui?”

                “In a larger sense. Though it’s not always easy to see. Do you?”

                “Not sure yet. Not enough distance.”

                He glanced back down the hall, wondering what was keeping the other two. “T’ink it stirred up trouble between dem?”

                Storm sighed thoughtfully, “Hard to say.”

                Logan appeared around the corner then. Storm tensed; “Everything okay?” she asked hopefully.

                Wolverine nodded; “He’ll catch up later. Think he needs a breather.” His eyes wandered to Remy and gave him a long, lusty look that sent a pleasant little shiver through the Cajun. “Thinking I could use one too.”

                His eyes moved to Ororo then, “What do you think, darlin’?”

                The dark skinned woman paused then shook her head, giving them both a loving little peck on the cheek. “I think you two could use a little alone time. I’ll check on Henry.”

                “You sure?”

                Storm nodded and excused herself, leaving the two men alone in the hall. Logan gripped Remy’s hand and lead him along, the two not trying to look overly obvious of their intentions as they navigated the halls back to Logan’s bedroom.

                Remy expected to be pounced on the moment the door was shut and locked; he expected Logan’s feral side to come out in full, throwing him on the bed and claiming him as his. It certainly wasn’t an unappealing idea…Remy actually loved when Logan showed his wild side. He hadn’t experienced it since before Creed had come back into their lives and made a mess of things…

                Instead Logan came up behind him and put his arms around him tightly, his head burrowed into the space between Remy’s shoulders, breathing deep. “Darlin’…”

                He let go the moment that word rolled off Logan’s lips. If it was possible to crave a word, to crave a sound, this one would have been Remy’s one true vice. It warmed him, excited and calmed him all at once. The way Logan said it in his low rumbling baritone was like coming home after being away for so long.

                Logan undressed him, moving slow, taking his time. Remy would have called it teasing, except he knew the hesitance came from a less calculated source. They moved to the bed and Remy dropped down on it, pulling Logan in between his legs and letting the man hold him close while the Cajun undressed him in return.

                He leaned his head against the burly man’s chest as he slid him out of his jeans. Logan’s pulse was quick but steady; he was still keeping tight control on himself. Remy kissed his skin and sighed, letting his own tight control ebb further.

                Logan let out a little growl of lust in response, almost seeming like he wanted to shake the feeling off, but Remy caught his face and made him look at him. “It’s alright…we waited long enough, mon coeur. I trust you.”

                “How?” the dark haired feral muttered, giving Remy a look of lingering remorse. But the Cajun just smiled.

                “Because I love you. So remind me how much you love me back…”

                Logan nodded and bowed his head to Remy’s for a moment before kissing him, soft at first then much more deeply, letting the lanky southerner put his arms around his neck and pull him closer.

                Remy sprawled himself back across the bed, offering up his skin for Logan to kiss and touch and feel. Wolverine was slow, careful, savoring the long lines and little contours of his lover’s muscles. He knew all of Gambit’s secret spots by now, the little pressure point under his right rib cage, the warm, tight skin right above his groin where his muscles made that deep v shape, the way he shivered if someone ran their thumb down the inside of his forearm. And his lover of course, knew all his secrets as well.

                The Cajun’s Charm was low burning, but potent. Logan let it wash over him like wave, but didn’t let it break his focus. He’d been so careful since they’d come back together, so cautious of himself that he rarely let himself be alone like this with Remy. Now that there was no buffer, no referee, no other presence to focus on and distract, Logan realized how much he’d missed these moments, this closeness.

                Logan hovered over the scars that ran across his lover’s abdomen, feeling Remy tense slightly. Logan put his hand over him to steady him and leaned down to kiss them each softly. His mate’s breath hitched a little, coming out in a shivery exhale, and Logan rubbed his arm to calm him.

                “Alright, darlin’?”

                Remy nodded and glanced down at him, running his hand through the man’s thick black hair and lifting his hips, hoping to refocus the feral’s attention where it was needed most.

                He worked Remy out of his jeans and boxers, barely realizing the Cajun had already undone his belt and pulled it from his waistband, one clever hand tugging open his fly. With the heavy rustle of denim hitting the floor, the two men were soon completely exposed, curled together on Logan’s old comforter in the dark, pressed close together, the rest of the world forgotten.

                Remy loved the way the shorter more powerful man felt over him, the weight of his body, the feel of his skin, the short dark bristles of hair that were softer than they first appeared. Logan was always warm, his body temperature seeming to run consistently higher than normal. Remy was drawn into that heat like a moth, letting his long fingers slide down the length of Wolverine’s broad shoulders and arms to the slope of his back and the curve of his ass, which the Cajun squeezed playfully.

                Logan purred in response and rubbed against him, eliciting a little sigh from Remy in return. The feral was already fully aroused, and Remy sensed that it would take very little to bring him over the edge, considering how long he’d been teasing him before they ever made it to the bedroom. He gripped the man lightly and started to stroke him, pulling him down to kiss him deeply as he did, making Logan moan into his mouth, hips shallowly thrusting towards Gambit’s palm.

                “Cajun, I’m gonna—“ He rasped harshly against his lips, but Remy just nipped in him return, squeezing him a bit more tightly and making sure to roll his palm over the throbbing vein on the underside of the man’s cock until he pulsed harshly and released, splattering Remy’s stomach with the warm results.

                “Shh,” Gambit cooed against his cheek. “now dat you’re all warmed up, we can take our time.”

                Wolverine chuckled and turned his head, nipping his neck lightly and Remy hissed happily, arching up into him. Logan wrapped his arms around his lower back and held him that way, arched and close, leaving a trail of little red bites from the man’s ear down to his shoulder, finally ending at his nipple.

                They rolled together until Remy had Logan pinned against the headboard, lying fully on top of him, grinding himself against the man’s still hard erection, but not letting him claim his prize yet. Logan had them both gripped in his fist, watching his mate’s face closely. Remy was always so expressive during sex, even the slightest touches seemed to have a big impact. He was also very vocal, which Logan loved.

                “Mmmmm! Cher! Dat feels good…little tighter…”

                “What’s the magic word?” Logan teased.

                Remy bit his lip and moaned before looking down at him with those heavy lidded black and ruby eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness, “S’il vous plait…need more…s’il vou plait Logan!”            

                Wolverine grunted in reply, loving when Remy dissolved into breathless French. He moved his free hand around and stroked it down his back until he moved down and inward, rubbing him lightly.

                Gambit jumped, just a little, eyes opening a little wider. Logan pulled away, suddenly nervous.

                “Do you not want me to—“

                Remy slowed his movements, considering. Logan caught a spike in his adrenaline, a rise in his heart rate. The warm, earthy fire of his scent suddenly tinged with a metallic note of fear. They hadn’t done this since that night in the cabin. Not even when they were with Ororo.

                “Darlin’, we don’t have to, it’s alright—“

                But Remy didn’t answer. Instead he rolled off the broader man and laid next to him, before reaching over to the bedside drawer and pulling out a well used bottle of lube. Wolverine staid exactly where he was, tense but hopeful.

                The Cajun rolled back towards him and laid his head on Logan’s chest as he proceeded to slick the feral mutant up liberally, before kissing him again. “You on top…nice and slow…d’accord?”

                Logan nodded, kissing him again and nuzzling warmly into his neck as he rolled himself over the man, pulling one of Remy’s thighs up and letting him drape a leg across his back to give him better access. The auburn haired man closed his eyes, fingers knotting in the bedsheets as Logan started to rub him again, slowly opening him and stretching him to make the entry easier.

                Though Remy seemed to enjoy it, Logan could tell that this was a difficult final step to take. Remy had been surprisingly forgiving after everything that had happened; but Logan knew that he had broken a trust that he might never fully be able to repair. That his mate was even willing to allow this much so soon was more than he could have hoped for; certainly more than he felt he deserved.

                He pushed further and Remy groaned when Logan’s slick fingers brushed over his prostate, making his hips buck and his own erection to swell a bit more. “Mmmm…do it now, cher, please…”

                Logan nodded, getting a good grip of Remy’s hips before positioning himself and thrusting forward lightly. Remy winced and moaned; fingers were one thing, but Logan was _thick_ and always hard as a steel pole. It took some getting used to, especially since it’d been more than a month now since they’d been intimate this way.

                With one hand he gripped the blankets, the other went to Logan’s arm, needing to brace himself as Logan pulled back lightly only to push forward again. He sunk deeper this time and Remy squirmed, trying to stay as relaxed as possible. He was caught between lust and his nerves; wanting Logan to take him hard and fast, but fearing what it might trigger.

                He hated that; that _Logan_ could trigger something like that in him. But he reminded himself that they were both victims of Victor’s manipulation, and whatever mistakes were made, he had to let them go. Really let them go.

                Logan seemed to sense all this because he leaned low over the Cajun and wrapped him tight in his arms, still inside him but not moving. “I got ya, darlin’. It’s okay if we need to stop.”

                Remy shook his head, “Non…don’t stop. I need you.” He looked Logan in the eye, hoping he understood how sincere he was, and let himself go, relaxing at last. Logan thrust forward again, keeping his close position over Remy. He could feel the Cajun’s powers flooding his senses now and he let it come. Remy needed this; he needed to feel as connected and safe as possible. He didn’t get it from many people, despite how many partners he’d had.

                That was just sex. This was something deeper, something practically spiritual if Logan dared to admit it.

                In this state he found it easier to let go as well, his feral side working in tandem with his higher senses. The pace began to quicken, and Remy arched up against him, moaning and breathing harshly, scratching his nails down Logan’s naked back.

                Normally Logan would fight to draw back, fearing he was losing control. But Remy was right there in his thoughts, in his senses, promising everything was okay. That he wasn’t afraid anymore.

                “Ah! Ah! Mm! Ahhh! Logan! Harder!”

                Wolverine growled happily in response to the heated request and slammed himself deeper into his lover’s body, earning more cries of pleasure and lust in return. Remy was close, Logan could smell it. “Come on darlin’…come on….”

                Remy whimpered in response, gripping himself with one hand while Logan kept the other pinned to the bed, fingers squeezing perhaps a little too hard. _“Ahhh…ahhh Logan!”_

                The feral felt him tense, about to tumble over the edge. He looked down at Remy’s sweat slick and flushed skin and…

                Remy howled as orgasm hit him hard and fast, making his thighs twitch and his hips rock forward uncontrollably, his insides squeezing around Wolverine so tightly it must have been painful. The high was so intense that he almost didn’t register the sudden sharp prick of teeth that set themselves deep into the meat between his neck and shoulder.

                Logan growled as Remy whimpered, feeling Wolverine finish for a second time inside him. The Cajun squeezed his lover’s bicep hard, “Logan— _Logan_!”

                The dark haired man suddenly withdrew and Remy noticed his lips were faintly red. His shoulder was throbbing and he blinked at Logan for a moment before reaching up to touch the offended place, only to feel strange indentation and the warm wetness of blood.

                Logan pulled back abruptly, making Remy yelp at the sudden loss, and sat there, stunned and blinking at what he’d done.

                “You…you bit me.” The other man panted, sounding surprised though not particularly upset. His link with his lover was still strong, and he could feel the rush of emotion coming off him. Images jumbled in his mind briefly, but Remy thought he understood. “You marked me? As…your mate?”

                Logan looked mortified. “Oh my God…” he was struggling to get out bed, looking like he bolt from the room. But Remy grabbed at him and managed to get his arms around the man, holding fast and firm.

                “Non! It’s alright, mon amour.”

                “No it’s not…shouldn’t have just went at ya like that…I wasn’t thinkin’.” The dark haired man muttered. “I hurt you.”

                “Non…I mean, it stings a bit but, you didn’t do it to hurt me. Did you?”

                “No,” the other answered, sharp and serious. “It’s…instinct, I guess. A sign to show what you mean to me, who you are. That you’re mine.” He cringed a little at the last words; they no longer had the sweetness they once did.

                But Remy understood all the same. “It means I’m your mate?”

                “No just a mate. _The_ mate. Second in command…the one who stays around, no matter what.” He seemed somewhat embarrassed; “Pack mentality. Sorry, I know it sounds crazy…”

                Remy kissed him. “We do crazy quite well, cher. I’m honored.”

                Logan offered him a grateful smile then turned and winced faintly at the deep impressions and faint smears of blood. “Better get some ice on that…”

                “Fuck ice. I’m not movin’ from dis spot for awhile. Come ‘ere.” Remy sighed, pulling the man down into his arms and back under the shelter of their soiled sheets.

                “So…” the black haired man said after a moment, when his lover had settled in his arms and seemed ready to drop off into a doze, “…this Eli fella…was he as good as me?”

                “Cher…”

                “Just a question.”

                Remy nuzzled against the man, frowning against the pillow of his dark hair. “Hank was…unnerved by me, oui?”

                “Don’t worry about it, darlin’. Hank’s just...from different places. But don’t think he thinks any less of ya.”

                “Den why de sudden exit?”

                “Well, you were letting that Charm of yours run pretty strong. He’s a feral and all.”

                Remy blushed; “Oh! Oh poor Hank…”

                Logan chuckled against his neck; “It’s fine. It’s all fine. Let’s take a little cat nap, what’ya say?” he mumbled.

                Remy nodded, wrapping them both in the old flannel blanket. Logan had worn him out physically, and all these memories, these old forgotten stories were wearing him out mentally as well. A little rest was exactly what he needed to recharge. He could think of no better place to do so than in Logan’s warm embrace.

 

**

 

                Despite his size and outstanding appearance, Beast could hide himself quite well when he wanted to. It took Storm several tries to guess where the feral mutant had ended up after his confrontation with Logan, and it wasn’t in any of his usual haunts. Instead, she found him prowling the gardens outside, looking quite melancholy and grumbling to himself in a distressed, exasperated manner.

                For a moment the woman considered retreating; she did not wish in encroach on Hank’s privacy. But his distress spurred her to act in spite of it.

                “Hank?”

                Beast turned suddenly, seeming startled. He must have been truly distracted to have not picked up on her scent, especially with her close proximity. “Is everything alright?” she continued.

                For a moment it looked as if he would give her the same answer he always did; that cheerful insistence that he was perfectly adjusted and in need of no further discussion on the matters of Logan or their lingering, unresolved romance. But he surprised her.

                “I’m terrible. Absolutely terrible.” He sighed heavily, falling down onto one of the benches that lined the little brick walking path that lead through the gardens. He took up more than half of it, looking almost comical in his dismay.

                “I have always been so careful, Ro. I’ve _prided_ myself on my ability to remain detached and professional in the face of that damn _Charm_ and the one time I let myself slip…it has to be in front of _him._ ” He sunk his head into his big paws and let out a quiet moan.

                Ororo quietly, her feet barely touching the ground, moved to his side and put her arms around him, pulling one of his hands away to hold in hers. “Hank…you’re being too hard on yourself. Both Logan and Remy _know_ you. Charm or no Charm, you’re not going to do anything rash.”

                “Of course not.” Beast muttered, almost bitterly. “Heaven forbid I ever actually act on my instinct, ever actually give over to the Beast that is my damn _namesake._ Hank would never do anything _rash_ or _impulsive_ or impetuous…that’s just…not me.”

                The woman beside him squeezed his hand, trying to understand. “…behaving badly and following your instincts are two completely different things.” She reminded him, stroking his hand. “Logan is protective of Remy…he can’t help it. He still carries so much guilt from before. But he trusts you, we all do. Or we wouldn’t have made you part of this.”

                He looked at her with those big amber eyes, his crestfallen features changing into a smile of deep gratitude. He leaned down towards her and nuzzled close, putting his big arms around her fully. “Thank you, Ro.”

                She held him fast and kissed his cheek. “You can come to me, anytime, for anything. You haven’t forgotten that, have you?” she asked.

                He hadn’t. But it pained him. She was so happy with them…and they with her. They had both loved Logan, probably deeper than most knew. Fate had decided to let Ororo rejoin him, and broaden that circle of love and intimacy with Remy. But he was always aware that while Storm had gotten a second chance; he had been passed over.

                “Hank, don’t shut me out.” She sounded slightly desperate then, and when he looked at her he found that her usual composed demeanor had waivered to something softer, more vulnerable. A rare sight from the young Goddess. “I love you. I can’t bare the idea that you might…hate me for being with him. Because I can’t choose, and I don’t want to. You’re my best friend. Logan is my love. I need you both, I need _all_ of you. Isn’t there some way we can move past this?’

                “Ororo,” he hugged her tighter, “I never blamed you for that. I’m sorry…sometimes, I am still that very selfish, very self-conscious young man I used to be.”

                She stroked the thick tuffs of sapphire blue fur at his jaw and then pulled back, looking a bit more relaxed now. She sighed and looked up at the darkening sky, the different hues of purple, pink, gold, orange and blue as twilight snuck over them. She missed the sky in moments like these, the weightlessness and ease of it all.

                “I think it would be wise for both of us to make a new start; make a new foundation for ourselves. After all, as much as I love my boys, they are both miserable at discussing lesson plans and curriculum, or politics.”

                Hank chuckled; “And I have to admit, I have been rather lonely in my little bubble. Charles has been increasingly preoccupied, and while I do enjoy my lunches with Kitty, Kurt and Bobby…I have to admit, I crave more stimulating conversation than what the latest “youtube video” is.”

                The laughed together and it felt like that long held tension between them finally gave way, like ice finally dissolving into the sea. Hank felt the weight on his chest, the anxiety in his heart, lessen, if only a little. He kissed her tentatively at the curve of her jaw, faintly breathing in her scent; African Orchids and rain.

 

**

 

                An hour or so later found all four of them reconvened in the privacy of Storm’s attic loft. She made them drinks as they settled in. Both she and Beast noticed and immediate change in Logan and Remy’s demeanor, a tension had been resolved, a bond reestablished.

                Logan moved to Ro’s side, wanting to pay her some attention since she’d been absent from their intimacies; and also wanting some sign that everything was alright with Hank. This left the doctor and scientist with the awkward task of explaining himself.

                “Remy, I hope you’ll forgive—“

                Gambit waved the apology off scarcely before he started, sipping at his drink. “Non, non, no need for dat, mon ami…sometimes I forget dat not everyone is comfortable wit my life style.”

                “No! No, it wasn’t that at all…I wasn’t _uncomfortable_ per sey…” Beast flushed faintly under his fur, toying with the cuffs of his shirt. Remy couldn’t understand how the man could stand being so layered under clothing with all that fur, but maybe it was just habit. Whatever it was, it only exaggerated how awkward he seemed to feel in that moment.

                “Can I…be honest with you?”

                The Cajun raised an eyebrow, taking a slow drink. “Ca depend…” he answered, somewhat slyly, reading a strange low-level current of arousal off Hank even still. His Charm was locked down tight, his empathy as well after his intense session with Wolverine, but he could still pick something up from Hank. His curiosity was peeked.

                “What you described having with this client of yours…it seems very intense. I never thought of escorts in that light until you…” he swallowed awkwardly.

                “Until you met one yourself.” Remy answered, still smiling, feeling like he was teetering on the edge of discovering something about the usually straight-laced professor. “It’s not like dat for everyone you know. My powers give me a special link wit people I…let’s say ‘service’. I can tap into deir needs, even deir fantasies sometimes. Makes me irresistible, when I really let myself go. Ever heard de term ‘drunk on love?’ Whoever coined dat was most _definitely_ an empath.”

                “Fascinating,” Hank said, a little too brightly. “I have to admit, I was a bit concerned when you said that you used your Charm in that way, but you really seemed to…enjoy yourself. I find that highly admirable, to be so comfortable with your sexuality and your body.”

“You know, you remind me a little of Eli. He was a bit more direct, to be sure, but….you both have dat same sort of shyness about yourselves. Can’t understand why, really.”

“Oh please, Remy…surely if you had come across a client with a deformity like my own, you might have thought twice about your approach.”

“You really t’ink I’m so shallow, mon frere?” Remy asked, feeling mildly irritated.

“No! No, that’s not what I…” Hank felt like he was drowning again. He looked helplessly in Ororo’s direction, hoping to catch her attention and be rescued before he put his foot in his mouth any further. He felt Remy’s hand on his wrist then.

“Just so you know, Henri, if you _had_ been one of my clients…I’m pretty sure I would have made you seen fireworks by de end of the night.”

Hank shivered, barely biting back a moan. Luckily at that moment both Storm and Wolverine rejoined them.

“You two kiss and make up?” Logan teased, not realizing what he had just interrupted, but sensing the tension between the two.

“Ah! I knew I forgot somet’ing!” the auburn haired man answered, before leaning up and kissing Hank squarely on the nose with a loud peck. The feline feral blinked and crinkled his nose in surprise, making them all laugh.

                “Dere! Water under de bridge!”

                “Behave,” Ro scolded him lightly, putting her hand around Remy and giving his ass a little slap, which made him grin and purr. “I think we’re all still waiting to hear what happened next. Since we know the story doesn’t end with you meeting your southern prince charming and being carried off into the bayou sunset.”

                “Ah, you’re right petite. Though I didn’t know dat at the time.”

                “So you banged the chubby ginger, what’s then?” Logan grunted, and Remy cuddled him to sooth his jealousy while Storm settled down with Hank on the couch.

                “Well…all good t’ings must come to an end. Happy endin’ don’t come in de middle of de story…”

 

**

               

               

                Sometime later, the sleeping man became partially aware of night passing into day and the slow emergence of traffic noise beyond the balcony doors, and the pale yellow gleam of morning sunlight. He felt his lover’s body shift and whimpered at the loss of body heat. Eli tucked him under the blankets and kissed his ear and neck before slinking off somewhere, and Remy vaguely guessed he was heading for the bathroom.

                His eyes slid open into a faint slit of black, glancing in the direction of the clock by the bed. It was barely seven o’clock. He heard Eli humming from beyond the bathroom doors, which was followed by the spray of water from the shower.

                Remy had no intentions of pulling himself out of bed just yet. The mattress was padded and soft and the sheets felt like butter. Not even the bruises on his back seemed to bother him in that bed. He curled up in the warm divot that his client had left behind and settled back down to sleep. He was going to lounge as long as he could; uneager to rejoin the waiting world outside. For the moment, in this little bubble that the Councilman had created, Remy felt relatively safe and at ease. That was a hard feeling to give up.

                He dozed, beginning to sink deeper into a dream, when the door of the room suddenly flew open, somewhat unceremoniously. “Oh my _lawd!_ Daddy! Daddy, you’ll just never _believe_ the night I had! If I ever see Jackson Harlow again I’ll—“

                The voice was loud, boisterous; dripping with southern twang. Remy’s eyes flew open and he sat up, sheets balled at his waist, wide eyed and wondering with hair hanging in his face. The girl whom had entered the room had scarcely noticed him upon entering; she hadn’t even glanced in the direction of the bed. She was already in the process of pulling off large pink heels and rubbing her swollen feet, yammering on to her assumed audience. She was still wearing a glittering pink cocktail dress that hugged all her curves; she was fuller with big hips, thighs, and a little tummy that showed here and there. Her breasts were about to fall out of the top of her gown as she struggled with her shoes. But again, this seemed of little consequence.

                It wasn’t until she began rolling down her stockings that she realized she was not in fact talking to her “Daddy”.

                She let out a little shriek of surprise, covering her mouth with her hands to muffle any further sound, and Remy twitched at the shrillness of it, sinking nervously back in the bed. It was only then that the two really seemed to get a good look at each other.

                “Remy!?”

                “Lotte?”

                The woman shrieked, this time with relief, and possibly even joy, dropping herself onto the bed and throwing her arms around him. “Oh _honey_ thank _God_ it’s _you_! Haha! Oh you scared me half to death, shame on you! But still, it was my fault for just _barging_ in…I forgot all about Big Daddy’s date.”

                “Big Daddy?” Remy repeated, feeling vaguely like he was in shock. He managed to wiggle free of the blonde woman’s grasp, looking at her a bit more closely. “Wait…merde! Is Eli your--?”

                “Of course he is, silly! Didn’t the last name ring any bells?” she giggled. She looked him over, seeming to register for the first time that he was sitting there with nothing between them but the sheets. She grinned at him like the cat that ate the canary, and Remy saw immediately the family resemblance in her dimples and the thick curve of her round cheeks. “Look at you! Guess you and daddy had a long night!” she laughed and pinched his cheek before pushing his hair out of his eyes. He knew she could see all the little love marks Eli had left on his skin, yet she seemed entirely unbothered. “Oooh, you don’t know how happy I am that it’s _you_ , honey! Of all the men he coulda picked—at least I don’t have to worry about it so much now!”

                “Lotte, _Lotte_ \--!” Remy cut in then, taking the girls hands in his and giving them a little squeeze. “Slow _down_ , cherie…it’s not even full daylight, and I musta drank a bottle and half of champagne last night…ya gonna have to go easy on me.” He pleaded.

                The young woman laughed again, but a bit more softly this time and hugged him again, kissing his cheek. “Of course, sugah! You go on and lie back down, I’ll slip on out the door to my own room.”

                “You’re staying here too?”

                “Well where do you think he got the idea? A friend of mine was having a little get together, just a bunch of us college girls and our old flames, you know how it is. And Daddy just loves this place, and it’s big enough that we’d never bump into each other.”

                Remy nodded, though he didn’t really follow her logic. He’d known Lotte for a few years; she was a regular at Dukes, always hanging on Tia’s elbow, her pink painted lips going at a hundred miles an hour. She was like a humming bird; always flittering, always restless, but somehow relentlessly cheerful.

                “He told you he was meeting with me? I mean…dat he had a date?”

                “Mmmhmm. He was so excited; it’s been so long since Big Daddy’s had any time for romancin’, and he’s been tryin’ to get up the nerve to ask another man out for months! Course it was a bit of surprise when he first told me he had an interest in that…but then again, at least I don’t have to worry about you getting’ pregnant!”

                Remy had a mind to resent the remark, but ignored it instead. He flopped back against the pillows, rubbing his tired eyes. “Wish I’d a known he was your daddy, petite…could make t’ings awkward. You didn’t _tell_ him about me, did you?”

                She folded her arms, for the first time not smiling, “As _if_ I’d mention _that_ to Daddy. Really Remy LeBeau, you’ve got some ego, and some nerve, t’inking you’re anyt’ing to me but a loveable scoundrel, which is exactly what you are! Need I remind you of the first time we met?”

                “It was an honest mistake, Lotte…I was drunk.”

                “You’re always drunk.”

                “So are you.”

                “Tramp.”

                “Bimbo.”

                They giggled at each other. “Seriously though, cherie…your father knows mine well enough, and I have to be careful about mixing business and pleasure.”

                “Which was this?” she asked, more seriously this time.

                “I’d like to think a bit of both.” Eli LaBouff spoke suddenly, emerging from the bathroom door. He was fresh and groomed, his cinnamon colored hair still wet, draped in a thick white robe. His cornflower blue eyes wandered from the man on the bed to the girl who stood at the foot of it. Both looked slightly embarrassed.

                “Honey pie,” the bigger man began in what Remy would later call his ‘stern’ father figure voice, “Just because you’ve been out having a bit of fun doesn’t mean that all your manners need go out the window. You shouldn’t have come bursting in here without knockin, and trapping my poor guest with your chatter; especially when he’s…less than presentable.”

                “But Big Daddy—“

                “Hush,” the man scolded her lightly. “You go on, I’ll be down to breakfast in a bit and you can tell me all about your night and what exactly is to be done to Mr. Harlow.”

                “You were listenin’ de whole time?” Remy asked.

                “Walls are thinner than you might think,” Eli answered. He helped his daughter gather her things, then shoed her out the door with a quick kiss on the cheek. As he turned back around, he saw that Remy was now out of bed, pulling on his clothes.

                Gambit wasn’t a fool; he’d been involved in stickier situations. He knew there was a chance that Eli might see his previous relationship (if you could call one night of drunken groping a relationship) with his daughter as threat. The last thing Remy felt like dealing with was more jealousy; he figured it was time to take his money and be on his way.

                “I’m sorry about that,” Eli apologized, watching him carefully and moving back towards the bed. “My little girl; she’s used to having the run of things. But I’m sure you know that already.”

                “Lotte’s very sweet,” Remy answered, finding his dress shirt and slipping it on with some effort; “I didn’t realize—“

                “Remy, what’s the hurry?”

                The ruby eyed man paused, somewhat confused by the question and looked back at Eli, catching the expression on his face more fully. He did not appear angry or put off as Remy suspected; rather he looked somewhat worried, maybe even sad.

                The Cajun moved towards him then, “I thought maybe you were uncomfortable with my knowing your daughter.

                “Are you and she an item of any kind?”

                “Non!” Remy said, almost too quickly. “Dat is to say…Lotte’s a lovely girl, but not at all my type.”

                “Well then,” Eli answered, putting his hands lightly on Remy’s arms and pulling him in closer. “I see no problem then.” He kissed the younger man eagerly, and he obliged him by putting his arms around him as well, leaning a little closer to deepen it. Their momentary tension passed quickly, and when Remy pulled back he felt relaxed again.

                “Mmm…” the ginger haired man hmm happily. “That kiss of yours, sugar…sweet as honey and potent as bourbon.”

                Remy grinned. “You’re too kind, mon amour.”

                Eli started to button up Remy’s shirt, using the act to keep the man close and still. “I know we agreed on a one time engagement, Remy, but…if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I’m curious to know if you take on _repeat_ clients.”

                “You want me for another night, cher?”

                “I was thinking more along the lines of several nights…in fact, how does your calendar look for the next week?”

                His ruby eyes widened and he stared up at Eli, stunned and deeply flattered at once. “M’sieur! Dat…dat’s quite de compliment.”

                “I would pay you you’re going rate per evening of course, and all your expenses would be included. I have a formal party I’m attending this weekend at state senator’s home; I do hope you’ll attend with me as my plus one.”

                “Are…are you sure you’re comfortable wit dat?”

                “Of course! If you are, that is.”

                Remy’s mind was ticking away furiously through different scenarios, trying to see all ends and how badly this could go if he wasn’t careful. The LeBeau family name held weight in the community, but it was also one that had been kept out of the lime light in an effort to preserve its secrets. Remy might be risking too much, openly attending such an affair.

                “Sounds like fun.” He answered. “Will we be staying here?”

                “Oh heaven’s no! You’ll come home with me, like a proper guest. If you don’t mind, I would like to keep you a bit closer…after all, this is not just about the pleasures of the boudoir. Though I do enjoy those thoroughly.” He grinned, his cheeks faintly pink. “I’ll draw up the whole agreement when we get home, right after breakfast.”

                He paused then and smiled down at Remy, “Oh honey, look at you…you seem a might overwhelmed. Maybe we should just order room service and cuddle in bed.”

                “Sounds perfect, mon cher.” Remy nodded, pulling the bigger man back towards the bed.

                “Would you like a shower first?”

                Gambit gave him a wicked grin, “Oh, not yet. First I t’ink, we have a little fun.”

                Eli smiled, wide eyed, as Remy pushed him lightly down onto the edge of the bed and knelt between his legs, pulling open the folds of his robe.

                “Oh my…”

 

**

 

                It was almost ten in the morning by the time the car came rolling up the old bricked road along the line of historic and meticulously manicured homes that lined the streets of the Garden District. The house definitely one of the larger homes on the street, and certainly one of the grander ones as well. The old antebellum mansion boasted three floors and a large spire tower on the highest level that reminded Remy of a captured princesses in children’s stories.

                He almost found himself laughing as he stepped out of the car. He’d recognized that the LaBouff’s were wealthy…but he was beginning to realize _how_ wealthy.

                He took Mr. LaBouff’s arm as they strolled up the lined brick walkway to the grand sprawling house, which was dotted and littered around it’s generous porches with magnolia trees, azalea and rose bushes and wide ferns. “Welcome to my humble chateau,” Eli grinned, opening the door for Remy, who beamed silently at the strange adaptation of his old fashioned mannerisms.

                “Your home is stunning,” Remy nodded, drinking in the expensive furnishings, the lavish décor, and the obvious age of the old house, which had been kept in peak condition. Not a simple task. Eli took his jacket and hung it in the closet by the door before removing his own. “Lotte never had you over?”

                “Non,” Remy said absently, quietly admiring the paintings that hung in the foyer. He’d already spotted one that would easily bring in two grand from the right buyer. And he had a sneaking suspicion that the crystals in the antique chandelier dangling from the vaulted ceiling were very real. “Lotte and I only met at a party once. She was there with Tia.”

                “Ah yes! Tia practically grew up here. Her mother was a big help to me with Lotte as the girls were growing up. Never seen two closer peas in a pod; though they are _complete_ opposites.”

                “Well, shall I give you the tour?” Eli grinned.

                Remy nodded and took his arm again, allowing the man to lead him around the house. Though he had no intention of taking advantage of his new client, his Guild training made him take note of everything of value in the grand estate. If Remy were less scrupulous, he could have easily made enough to retire all together and live comfortably in Europe for _years_ before actually making a dent in his profits.

                All this wealth and extravagance was strangely staggering to him, maybe even a little off putting. Even his own home was not as grand as this. But perhaps it was Remy’s upbringing in the foster care system that made him feel suddenly dwarfed among the LaBouff’s stately treasures. Remy had never really owned anything or belonged to anyone. Not until he came to live with Jean-Luc and Henri. Even there, he had very few personal affects, and seemed to attach to very little. His relationships with most people were very much the same. Friendly, intense, but fleeting.

                Eli’s room was on the second floor. Its windows faced the left side of the lawn, looking off down the street at one end, and the other turned towards the lavish gardens that covered the sides and back of the narrow land surrounding the house.

                A huge four poster bed stood near the door, flanked on either side by a large white marble fireplace, a large oak wardrobe, a writing desk that was slathered with papers, a small dining table and chairs and an antique settee that was situated in front of the windows that faced the garden. There was a large, disgruntled looking white cat there, sleeping in a puddle of sunlight.

                Eli took his duffle bag and placed it on the bench at the foot of his bed. “This is my room of course, but for the time being I would like you to think of it as your own. You’re welcome to anything, except of course what’s in my bureau. That I’m afraid is all confidential.” He moved towards the desk and stuffed the papers in the drawer before producing a small key to lock it with. Remy pretended not to notice or care. He’d learned how pick such locks when he was barely eight years old; if he wanted anything in that desk, it would be his. But Eli didn’t need to know that.

                “Of course, if you would be more comfortable in your own room, there’s two guest bedrooms on this floor, just down the hall.”

                “Oh I think I’ll be more than comfortable here,” Remy answered, dancing his fingers along the bedspread in a teasing fashion.

                The broad man chuckled at his flirting and stole up behind him, kissing his neck again and giving his shoulders a squeeze. “Good to hear. But right now, I need to go and talk to Lotte, since we missed her at the hotel. You’re free to wander and help yourself to anything you like, okay sugar?”

                Remy nodded and kissed him. He’d have time to further explore the house later…right now all he wanted was a bath. He’d never quite gotten around to it at the hotel.

                Eli kissed him again and left him alone, and Remy waited until he heard his footsteps die off completely, descending down long winding staircase to the main floor below before letting his guard drop.

                The cat lazily opened one of its big green eyes and studied him for a moment, and Remy casually made his way over to it, admiring the gilded wallpaper and the old portraits and pictures on the wall, brushing his fingers over its snowy fur.

                The creature purred loudly and arched up into his hand, taking and instant liking to him. Remy did always have a strange way with cats. After watching the scenery out the window for a moment, he dug around his pocket and pulled out his cellphone.

                Jericho had called him several times and left him at least three messages. Remy frowned and quickly discarded them. He was _not_ in the mood to deal with that yet. He instead dialed Henri’s number and waited for an answer.

                _“Remy?”_

                “Oui,” the Cajun answered quickly, “sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

                _“Everything alright? How did de job go?”_

“Better den expected,” he grinned. “I’ll be engaged here for some time, at least de next several days. Tell Daddy not to worry; I’ve got it under control.”

                “He has his hands full now as it is; Marius and Julien are trying to have you penalized for what happened with Essex and Jericho. Someone got video of you and Drumm using your powers on him in an alley way…what’s going on?”

                Remy fumed silently. How could anyone had gotten _video_ of that? Unless he was being followed by more than just Essex. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

                _“Dis is serious. If dey gather enough evidence, dey could eject you from de Guild! Dey’ll strip you of everyt’ing, your passport, your accounts, all access to our network and safe houses. And that’s only the beginning. You’d never be able to come home, Remy!”_

                “Dey can’t do dat wit’out a trial. And dey gonna have a hard time getting’ me to appear for dat court date.”

Henri sounded wholly frustrated then, and Remy could all but hear him grinding his teeth. “If you’d just _explain_ what happened with Essex…even to _us_ Remy, we’d be able to help.”

Gambit knew this was the truth; but something held him back. He knew what would come of it; he knew what Marius Bourdreaux and his son would construe it as; that his powers had caused the issue; that his mutant abilities made him liability to the Guild, not an asset as Jean-Luc always proclaimed. The hell of it was, Remy was really, really terrified that they might be right. And that others might agree with their take on things. Perhaps even his own father.

“Non, I can’t do dat. Desole mon frere, I promise it’s for de best. I’ll just lie low here for awhile; eventually Marius will run out of steam. De Council is not very patient when it comes to dese sort of t’ings, especially when all dey got is his word and what is some shitty phone video shot in de dark to go off of. I’ll be fine.”

_“And what if you run into Essex again?”_

“Den I’ll take care of him on my own.”

                _“But you don’t have to, Remy. You do know that, don’t you?”_

                “Of course,” Remy replied, but it was a little too quick, a little too cheerful. “I’ll keep you updated, mon frere, d’accord? Take care Daddy for me…you know how he gets when he’s stressed. He’s not a young man.”

                He hung up before Henri could say anything further and tossed the phone into his bag.

 

**


	7. Chapter 7

 

**

                Life with Eli was quiet, but never dull. The man might never have entertained an escort before but he was an impeccable host; always attentive, always prepared, genuinely delighted to have company. He doted on Remy in ways that surprised the Cajun; doing little things like making or ordering his favorite foods, listening to his favorite music, offering him little massages throughout the day (usually just before or after sex) and encouraging Remy to tell him all about himself. More surprising than this however was how at ease Remy felt around the man. Normally his guard was kept up; either because his client was also his “mark” or because they were dangerous in some way, and letting his Charm influence slip too much in any direction could cause major complications. Eli seemed to be wholly unaware of Remy’s abilities in that aspect, and he only ventured to ask questions about his other mutations when Remy broached the subject first.

                Gambit delighted in showing him and Lotte his card tricks, and the different ways in which he manipulate his kinetic energy levels. On their second night together, Eli requested that Remy do his “light show” while they were in bed. Gambit wouldn’t soon forget the way the man’s eyes had lit up, watching flashing of his naked skin alternate between darkness and hot pink flashes of illuminated playing cards. It might have been the perfect evening…except Remy had let a little too much energy build up during the slow burn performance and by the time Eli had him in the heat of things…there went the sheets in a great big crackle of sparks that singed them both.

                He had offered to replace them, but Eli only shook his head. The man couldn’t’ stop laughing.

                Remy wasn’t in love with him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever really been in love with anyone. He had a sort of puppy-love for Marius Bordeaux’s daughter Bella-Donna when they’d first met some years ago; but it was nothing beyond psychical attraction and the thrill of knowing exactly how off-limits that girl was to him. The Bordeaux were…strange.

                He _might_ have loved Jericho. He certainly cared deeply for the man, and knew that Drumm felt the same. But Jericho could never get over Remy’s carelessness, his impulsiveness, and his hunger for affection and attention. Likewise, Remy could never see himself with someone as reserved, disciplined, and closed as Jericho. Not in the long run.

                But long runs weren’t everything. Love, deep romantic love wasn’t everything either. Remy wanted it someday, sure. But for now…he was quite comfortable right where he was. _Happy_ even. He _liked_ Eli, a lot. So much that this job was starting to feel like less of a job and more like…dating.

 

                By the third day of his stay, Remy found that he had settled quite comfortably into Eli’s life. That morning it poured down rain, and there was a unseasonable chill in the air. Remy had decided to bring the councilman an early lunch at his office as a surprise. In truth, he felt awkward, not to mention _tempted_ , wandering around that big house all by his lonesome.

                He was wearing a black blazer and black jeans with a dark green shirt and black tie, carrying a large tote that boasted hot gumbo and biscuits, bengiets from Dukes and a bottle of Merlot.   He realized that it probably wasn’t the most appropriate thing to bring to an elected official’s office…but then again, he could have always shown up in his trench coat and nothing else. He grinned at the idea. Maybe, if they had time, he’d put on his cat suit and pretend to “break into” Eli’s office…

                He climbed off the rail car on the street corner, opened his umbrella and made his way towards the tall gleaming City Hall building.

                Eli’s office was on the third floor, and his secretary, Cammie, was blonde, chubby and awkward. Her face turned bright pink when Remy entered the lobby and flashed her one of his trademark grins. “Bonjour, Mem’selle! I’m here to see Mr. LaBouff; is he available?”

                “Uh, I, umm…” the girl stuttered, quickly glancing at her schedule, going more pink every second. Remy caught a bright burst of her embarrassment and her instant attraction and chuckled in spite of himself.

                “Desole, cherie, I didn’t mean to fluster you. I’m sure you’ve got your pretty little hands full, managin’ all his calls. I’ll just show myself in, oui? Won’t be but a minute.”

                “Uh, um, sir, no you can’t just—“

                Remy tried the door and found it unlocked. Inside Eli was pacing his office, blustering over the phone to someone in a loud, somewhat annoyed manner. He reminded Remy of the old southern campaigners that he used to see in vintage movies.

                “—Now you listen to _me_ , sir! That is _my_ district, and if I say that we need to increase the level of security in our neighborhoods, than you had better give me a _damn good_ reason why we can’t! And if you even say the word _budget_ to me again, I’ll—“

                He looked up and saw Remy standing there and his expression instantly changed to one of delighted surprise. “Sweetheart!” he cried, arms out, dashing towards the younger man. Remy expected a hug and a kiss on the cheek, instead the man all but dipped him over backwards and kissed him passionately. He cracked an eyelid and saw Cammie was watching them, wide eyed and red faced.

                “Darlin’, what a surprise! You couldn’t have come at a better time, I was just about to give that old windbag a piece of my mind to choke on! Cammie, sweetie, hold all my calls!”

                “Uh, yes Mr. LaBouff.”

                Eli shut the door hurriedly behind them and ushered Remy further into his office, looking practically giddy.

                “I hope you don’t mind my droppin’ in,” Remy spoke then, “I just wanted to bring you a little somethin’, since you said you’d be here late tonight.”

                Eli pulled him close and kissed his cheek, peeking into the bag. “Well aren’t you just sweeter than a peach. I was s _tarvin_ ’ as a matter of fact. Go on, have a seat there.”

                “Who were you talking to?”

                “No one you need to concern yourself with,” Eli said absently, putting the bag on the table and laying out the spread while Remy seated himself on the edge of his desk.

                “You t’ink dere’s a need to raise security around de Garden District? It’s already better protected den most of the parish, mon amour.”

                “True but…there’s been a rash of strange happenin’s around town. I’ve spoken with the other councilmen about raising security in their districts too, but that’s not up to me.” He offered Remy a bowl of the Gumbo, but the Cajun waved it off absently.

                “What sort of strange happenin’s?”

                Eli looked at him a bit more carefully; “Now, darlin’, you know I can’t be discussing details with you. Wouldn’t be proper, my position and all.”

                “And _my_ position as well, non?”

                Eli gave him a little nod; “Indeed. Let’s not bog ourselves down with business; what have you got planned for the rest of the day?” he asked, digging into his food.

                Remy shrugged; “Nothing much; Lotte want to go shoppin’ for de party dis weekend. Other than that, I’ll just be lying around dat big old house missing you somet’ing awful.”

                Eli grinned and rubbed his knee; “Aw, mighty sweet of you to say so, darlin’. But you know you’re free to come and go as you please while I’m working. Sure you got friends to see; or maybe check in with your daddy. Sure he’s wondering about you.”

                Remy said nothing, wanting to get off the subject. He spread his legs a little wider as he perched on the edge of the desk ad sighed quietly. Eli’s fingers crept a little further past his knee, moving inward and ruby eyed man smiled, letting his jacket slip off his shoulders.

                “Are there cameras in your office?”

                “No,” Eli replied. “Only in the lobby.”

                “Good,” the Cajun purred. He moved Eli’s hands to his groin and pressed it there, letting him stroke him through the fabric of his pants. Eli bit his lip, attempting to muffle a little moan at the way Remy almost instantly responded to the warmth of his hand even beneath the layers of clothing.

                Remy loosened his tie and undid the buttons of his shirt as Eli continued to work him with his hand. The moment the folds of the shirt came away, exposing more skin, Eli was there, licking and kissing while the Cajun grinned and sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

                “You’re a terrible influence on me, boy,” Eli hissed against his chest, biting his nipple and making Remy whimper quietly as the man simultaneously squeezed him harder, stroking him faster now that he was fully erect.

                “It’s my specialty, mon cher.”

                Eli pried open his belt and his fly, finally pushing past the layers that separated skin from skin. Remy shivered as the man licked him hotly, one hand gripping the desk to brace himself. He knew that Cammie was right outside the door; if they were too loud she would hear everything. Not to mention Eli’s next appointment was due to arrive in less than thirty minutes.

                Remy tried to return the attention, but Eli kept him pinned in his position, seeming very content to simply have his way with him at the moment. It wasn’t quite what the theif had planned when had started this, but he couldn’t argue that it was very exciting all the same.

                Eli had gotten quite good at pleasuring him with his mouth. Maybe too good. Remy felt himself fighting the urge to shove the man’s head down onto his cock, surprisingly needy for more than the man’s measured strokes and teasing licks.

                “Hmm, I can see I should have paid more attention to you this morning…you’re mighty anxious, aren’t you sugar?”

                “Mmm! S’il vous plait…Big Daddy…feels good…” Remy panted, using the man’s preferred pet name. It wouldn’t have been Remy’s choice, but he never argued with a client.

                Eli opened his mouth to reply, but the phone on the desk buzzed suddenly.

                _“Mr. LaBouff? I’m sorry to interrupt, but you have an important phone call on like one.”_

                “Cammie, I told you to hold my calls.” The mustached man replied, without stopping his actions. Remy shuddered at the man squeezed him roughly, his thumb playing over the head of his cock in little circular strokes that drove Gambit crazy.

                _“I’m sorry, sir, he says it’s urgent. It’s the Police Commissioner.”_

                “Damn,” Eli grunted. “Alright, patch his through, darlin.”

                Remy made to move his hand away, but Eli held him in place, giving him a particularly evil look; “ _You_ stay right where you are, darlin’. I’m in no way finished with you yet.”

                “But--!”

                _“Hush.”_ Eli cooed, putting the call on speaker with his free hand while keeping pace with the other, “Not a sound, sugar.”

                Remy grinned and let his head drop back, sucking on his lower lip as the man continued to stroke and tease him, giving him enough friction and speed to make his hips shudder and buck, trying to thrust upward for more, but not enough to bring him over the edge.

                “What can I do for you today Mr. Dautreve?” Eli asked casually, giving no indication at all that he was otherwise preoccupied.

                “Eli, glad I caught you! I hear you’re trying to get more patrol cars down in the Garden District.”

                “You heard right, Bill.”

                “Not feasible, my friend. I’m stretched thinner than water as it is!”

                “Oh I’m sure you can shuffle things around, Bill. Aren’t your boys always looking for overtime?”

                Remy was just struggling to keep his breathing even and low when Eli’s other hand pulled down his jeans even further and started moving between his cheeks. Gambit gripped the desk, white knuckled, teeth sunk into his lip as he felt the man start to move saliva slick fingers against his entrance.

                “It isn’t just that, Eli. The Garden District is no more important than the others; and you and I both know there’s less trouble with Mutants there than in some of the other districts.”

                Remy was trying to listen; the word “Mutant” had sparked his attention. But it was extremely difficult to focus while Eli was stroking him softly with one hand and working his fingertips against his prostate with the other. His eyes were rolled up, mouth open in silent moans…he was going to explode any second, and the pure struggle of silence was taking all his focus.

                “Well, that may be. But I have a duty to look after my friends and neighbors, Bill. These disappearances have to stop.”

                His logic struggled through the haze of his lust; he realized he was hearing something important, something he needed hear more about. He gripped Eli’s arm, trying to get him to release him, but the ginger seemed to misunderstand, instead dipping his head and taking Remy into his mouth while moving his fingers inside him even faster.

                Gambit lost it, emitting a strangled little gasp as he erupted down the back of the man’s throat, thighs shaking violently as waves of orgasm rippled through him for a good twenty seconds. On the other end of the line Bill paused;

                “Everything okay?”

                “Apologizes,” Eli said quickly, clearing his throat and wiping his mouth as he looked up at his panting, red faced lover. “I was just finishing my lunch.”

                “Just as well, this really isn’t the time. I’ll talk to you later, Eli.”

                “Of course, Bill, of course. You have a nice day now…”

                The line went dead and Remy whimpered loudly the moment it did. “Mon Dieu! I t’ink I almost blacked out!”

                Eli only grinned at him and kissed him lovingly, “Oh sugar, forgive me. You just look too delicious when you come undone like that…I couldn’t help myself.”

                Remy nodded, slowly pulling his pants back up as Eli cleaned himself off and excused himself to the washroom. He listened to the sound of the running water as he glanced back at the phone line, trying to recall what he’d heard Commissioner Dautreve saying about Mutant disappearances. Why hadn’t he heard about this before? He couldn’t recall seeing anything in the paper.

                Then again, he had been rather out of touch within the last week…

                Knees still shaking, Remy put himself together again and made for the door just as Eli was returning. “Running off so soon, sugar? Hope I didn’t upset you—“

                “Non! Non, mon amour. Nothin’ like dat, I just decided dat I probably should take you up on your advice, and check in wit mon pere. And I wouldn’t want to keep you from your work too long.”

                “Ah, wonderful! You go right along and do that, darling.” He kissed Remy lovingly. “And thank you again for the lunch. You’re so good to me.”

                The auburn haired man nodded and excused himself, hoping that Cammie wouldn’t notice he looked less polished than when had come in, or that his walk was a little slower.

 

                Remy made his way out the building as quickly and quietly as possible, keeping his head down and eyes forward, hoping not to attract too much attention. Luckily he made it out of the building and back towards the bustling sidewalk without incident, and neither Cammie nor any of the security guards seemed to note that he was looking more rumpled than when he went in.

                But as soon as he hit the sidewalk outside, he felt like there was another pair of eyes on him. Remy paused and glanced around at the busy street. There were dozens of people around, most hurrying from one point to the next, engrossed in their own comings and goings. Another street car had just pulled up and was letting passengers off. No one seemed to take too much notice of him, but yet that nagging feeling persisted.

                He shivered a little and shoved his hands into his pockets and started walking, but the feeling lingered still. He paused nervously and took a little breath, opening up his empathic energies and trying to find the source.

                It was a dangerous thing, opening his empathic channels like this in such a crowded place. The immediate rush of noise, of feeling made him flinch as though he’d been struck. His mind was flooded with little glimpses of other people’s lives, of their moods, their desires and fears. It became difficult to sort one feeling from the rest, but still Remy pushed on, struggling for focus. Someone had just broken up with their boyfriend; completely crushed. Someone else had just gotten a raise. Another was pleasantly numb, feeling nothing. Someone was thinking about where they were going to sleep tonight, another about whom they were going to sleep with tonight, a child was missing their parent, and another was dreading going home.

                Remy paused to collect himself, leaning on the fence post for support. He was getting lost in it, soon it would be too much for him to shut out. He was ready to give up when he caught a particularly stark feeling of covetous delight.

                _“Found you.”_

                The words were so clear in his mind that Remy could have sworn he’d heard them whispered in his ear. He whipped around, scanning the crowd, his empathic link broken. He saw no one of interest, no one that seemed to be looking at him or noticing him past a brief glance. The watchful feeling faded and he felt strangely alone.

 

**

 

                Remy tossed and turned in the big empty bed, unable to rest. The strange encounter outside City Hall had left him feeling haunted and nervous. His tired eyes slid from the clock to his phone, which was lying just beyond his fingertips. He thought about calling Henri; asking him if he’d known anything about what became of Essex, or what the word on the street was about these Mutant disappearances.

                But he hesitated. Calling in the middle of the night like this would make it seem like he was worried. He shouldn’t have time to worry. He should be engrossed in his client, enjoying himself, living in the moment and enjoying the ride, not thinking about tomorrow until it came.

                He soon put Henri from his mind as his thoughts slipped to Jericho and Tante and the conversation he’d overheard them having in the kitchen. Did Mattie know what Essex was up to? What had she seen? Remy doubted she had known he was going to attacked by the man, especially in that manner but…then again…

                He groaned and twisted in the sheets, finally kicking the knotted bundle to the floor and rubbing his face tiredly. “Goddammit, Eli…why’d you have to work late tonight?”

                He tugged on his t-shirt and made his way out into the hallway, wandering past Charlotte’s room, hearing little sighs and giggles from inside. She had Tia over for the evening, since her father wasn’t home. Remy pretended not to notice when she snuck the young woman up to her room after midnight. They were a cute couple.

                He made his way down to the main floor and walked out onto the porch, hearing the old screen door creak and slap shut behind him. He crawled onto the old porch swing and sat in the dark, listening to the sound of night beyond the pale yellow glow of the porch light.

                He kept thinking about what he’d overheard in Eli’s office, and the conversation he and Jericho had before everything had turned into a mess. He had suggested that Remy would have to choose between being a Thief or a Mutant. That choice had seemed simple to him at the time…suddenly, not so much.

                Before Essex had mysteriously walked into his life, he would have turned his head and looked the other way. Being a Mutant had never done his any favors, and he had met very few others who shared his uniqueness. Yet obviously there were far more of his own kind out there; and someone was making them vanish. That someone, Remy feared, might be Essex himself.

                He glared into the darkness, thinking back on how naively fascinated he’d been with the man. That was when he recalled the strange void of Essex’s emotions; the void that had snared Remy’s interest from the start. What was it? What power could the man possess that would allow him to block himself so completely from Gambit’s empathic influence? He had no idea…but he knew how to change that.

 

**

 

                The crowd at the _La Chat Blue_ at one in the morning was strange and strikingly lively crowd. Located away from the immediate cluster of the city lights, in the outskirts between there and the bayou, the little road-side dive bar attracted a more eclectic crowd; more specifically Mutants.

                There were two bouncers at the door, bathed under the glow of bright blue and purple neon lighting. They checked everyone going in; not for ID’s specifically. It seemed a prerequisite of the club to be on the _weird_ side.

                From the shadows Remy watched as several patrons reveal their strange abilities to the bouncers; some producing fire, others changing shape or size. Some were already quite obvious in their mutation; a girl with wings like a moth, another with lizard like skin and eyes to match.

                Remy felt almost too normal for this place. But finally, he got up the nerve to go inside. The woman at the door was blonde, and pale, and strikingly beautiful in a cold, untouchable way. She wore a white leather jacket, matching corset and a tight white leather mini skirt with knee high boots. If she wasn’t a dominatrix, she certainly had the look down.

                “Hold up stranger,” the woman spoke as he stepped up to the door. She tapped at his chest with a riding crop, which just made Remy smirk. “This is an exclusive establishment; what makes you think you can just walk in here?”

                “Desole,” Remy answered, pouring on the Charm hot and thick. “But I t’ink I meet the requirements, non?”

                The woman blinked at him for a moment and then narrowed her gaze, poking him in the chest again. “Cool it, precious,” she said. Then he heard her, not with his ears, but inside his head. _“You don’t want me to take you home tonight, baby boy. You couldn’t handle it.”_

They both winced a bit and took a step back from each other, the woman massaging her temple. “Damn…you knew I was a Telepath?”

                “Non, cherie,” Remy answered. “I barely know what dat even means.”

                She gazed at him suspiciously for a moment then took his hand and pulled him into the red doors. Inside the bar was crowded with people, most clustered around tables or the bar itself, others dancing on the dance floor while loud music blared. Gambit got an glimpse of a whole other subculture in his own hometown that he had been completely blind to.

                The blonde pulled him to a back door behind the bar and shut the door. Inside looked to be a private lounge, and the thickness of the door was enough to help drown out the sound of the obnoxiously loud music beyond.

                “Who are you? What do you want here?”

                Remy raised his hands, feeling a burst of sudden hostility from the woman. “Easy, easy! Didn’ come here to start no trouble! Just lookin’ for answers…”

                “Answers to what exactly?” she asked, folding her arms.

                “Dis is a Mutant bar, ain’t it? So can I assume you would have heard all about de disappearances dat have been goin’ on lately?”

                “Precisely why we’re taking extra precautions.” The woman answered. Her eyes narrowed again and Remy found himself suddenly forced to fall back into a waiting chair, frozen to the spot as the woman came to stand in front of him.

                “What de--?”

                She ignored him and searched through his coat, pants and shirt, finding a deck of cards, a wallet and nothing else. She pulled out his ID and glanced at it; “Remy LeBeau? Hmmm…with this address, it sounds like you’re a long way from home, baby boy. What brings you to our neck of the woods?”

                Remy ignored his initial discomfort and panic at being detained as he was; especially since he still could not quite understand how she was doing it, and spoke calmly, keeping his black and ruby eyes fixed on hers; “I wanted to find out more about de mutants who went missin’. Maybe see if dere was some sort of pattern to it all.”

                “Are you a detective?”

                “Non…just someone wit an interest in not ending up on a missing person’s list.”

                Remy felt a pang in his head again; a strange sort of buzzing static like someone flipping through radio channels, followed by pressure inside his head. _“What are you? What is this…static in your mind?”_

“Ah!” he hissed, clenching his teeth. “Stop! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

                The pressure increased and Remy felt jolted, like a spike rippling through his brain. He bellowed in pain, but it stopped as soon as it had started. He felt her presence in his mind, felt her gliding through his thoughts, his memories like wind passing through a tree.

                _“I’m sorry about this. But I have to make sure you’re not a threat.”_

_“If you want a threat, lady, I give you one!”_

He clenched his teeth, regaining focus. The woman suddenly gave a little shriek of pain and broke contact with him, falling back against the door, blood running from her nose. She blinked at him, obviously shaken.

                Her influence on him broken, Remy slumped in his chair, no better for the experience. They were both blinking and breathless, reeling with the pain they’d inflicted on each other, seemingly without effort.

                “You wanna know what I can do, all you had to do was ask…” Gambit snarled, touching a glass ash tray on the table next to his chair and letting it collect a charge. The woman watched as it began to glow brilliantly fuchsia for a moment, the burst in a loud pop of broken glass; sprinkling it everywhere.

                “I got an energy current inside me…makes t’ings go _boom_ when I want dem to. Got a knack for readin’ people’s emotions too; feeling what dey feel, and making dem feel de way I feel sometimes too. Guess ya’ll call dat bein’ an Empath. On top of dat I got a certain Charm…makes me people like me. Though you don’t seem to keen on it at de moment…I wanna know why dat is.”

                For a moment she said nothing, just watching him and cleaning the blood from her face before it splattered on her jacket. But she collected herself quickly, and Remy watched as her pale skin turned from flesh to gleaming, clear glass. Only he realized, that glass didn’t have that kind of sparkle. The woman moved closer to him gripped his shirt, dragging him out of his chair. Her hand was rough and sharp like stone.

                “Empaths and Telepaths don’t always sync very well.” she answered. “So your’ Charm’ is little more than a passing annoyance for me. But that still doesn’t explain that strange field around your mind…it must be your energy signature that’s causing the interference.”

                “If you say so.”

                She released him at length, slowly allowing herself to return to natural form. Gambit thought she looked just as dangerous. “Alright, Mr. LeBeau, you’ve peeked my interest. Tell me more about the man I saw in your mind…the one you call Essex.”

                “He was a client of mine; until I learned that he was doing experiments on mutants. He says he’s trying to help our kind but…I find dat hard to believe. Dis rash of disappearances seems to have started since he came to N’awlins. I t’ink he might be behind it.”

                “To what point and purpose?”

                “Don’t know, maybe collectin’ more specimens for his experiments.” He paused then, “You know, I never got your name.”

                “Not important right now. You believe this man is capable of capturing Mutants on his own? What powers does he have?”

                “Dunno for sure…just know he can manipulate people. Make dem believe t’ings dat ain’t true, screw wit deir minds.”

                “That’s a rather broad generalization,” she sighed. “Look, Mr. LeBeau, I really wish I could help you, but the fact of the matter is the rest of us don’t know any more than you do on the subject of these disappearances. We are very much on our own out here; the humans aren’t interested in missing Mutants. They’re only bothered when the problem starts mussing up their quiet little bubble. It’s noble that you’ve taken it upon yourself to solve the mystery….if not foolish; bordering on suicidal. But I _don’t_ recommend you continue to make your investigation so obvious. You’ll get nothing but trouble.”

                “I can see that.” He straightened himself, feeling foolish for having come here. He started past her towards the door, but she put her hand against his chest, producing a business card.

                “If you ever get tired of the Thieves Guild, _Gambit_ , or playing junior detective; consider giving me a call. My partners and I might have a spot for you in our little organization. If you’re interested.”

                Remy glanced at the card, which was black with silver script scrawled across it reading _The Hellfire Club._

                The Cajun raised an eyebrow as the woman leaned up and kissed his cheek. _“My name is Emma. Now get out of here, before you find yourself in real trouble.”_

“Oui, I do just dat, ma cherie.” Remy grinned silkily, allowing the card to go up in flames between his finger tips and blowing the ashes in the woman’s face. “Thanks for all your help.”

                He stepped through the metal door, back out into the crowded bar room and quickly made his way out a back entrance. The encounter with Emma was as exciting as it was disturbing; but Remy found he now only had more questions instead of answers.

                Moreover, he was now standing outside of a bar at one thirty in the morning, completely and totally sober. This night was starting to feel like a complete wash….until he heard someone scream.


	8. Chapter 8

 

**

 

                Gambit took off towards the sound, following it back through the vacant lot behind the bar out into a large empty field that lay beyond a tree studded dirt side road. His eyes adjusted to darkness quickly as he ran, the only sound being the faint thudding of his feet across damp earth. He spotted the red gleam of taillights in the darkness beyond the trees; the sound was coming from there.

                The screams came broken and intermittently; they were shrill and cracked, usually followed by terrified, muffled words or loud sobs. But they were not the only sound now. New voices rose through the dark; loud, raucous, giddy voices, that broke into peels of mocking laughter after every screech was heard.

                Remy came upon the scene unnoticed, stopping just a few short feet away from the circle of thugs that were surrounding a downed girl on the ground; the one who was doing all the screaming. She was young; maybe seventeen. Her clothes were torn and her hair was muddy and matted to her face, which was streaked with mud and tears and splatters of blood. She kept trying to get up, but every time she did, one of the other members of the circle would rush forward and hit her or kick her. They were armed with chains, a boat oar, a crow bar and a shot gun. The girl had nothing.

                “Please, please!” she screeched, her voice ragged and shrill, blood pouring from her nose. “Leave me alone! I never hurt nobody, nobody!!”

                “Fuckin’ mutie!” One of the circle members shouted, kicking out at her. She barely managed to avoid the blood, the assailant, another woman Remy realized, rushed forward and caught her by her hair and dragged her back. The girl screamed, trying to pull away, and her attacker kneed her brutally in the face for her trouble.

                The girl went down, crying hard and making a wheezing sound as her attackers laughed louder.

                “Okay, okay, we’ve all had our fun,” a familiar voice spoke then, jolting Remy. The man who was holding the shot gun stepped into the pool of light created by the cars headlights and he instantly recognized his face. Julien Boudreaux stood there, grinning down at his helpless victim, pointing the double barrel of the gun at her head. “Time to put this one out of its misery.”

                There was a sound like a match being struck and they all looked up, surprised as bright flash of magenta light came streaking towards them. The light struck the ground just to the left of Julien and caused a rippling explosion, like a tiny landmine going off , that sent the blonde man falling backwards on his ass in a hail of dirt and gravel.

                The other members of the group shouted and turned in surprise, some ready to attack, others ready to flee. But Remy was on them. He caught two as they tried to rush him, dealing them swift blows to the face with his fists, breaking one’s nose and grabbing the other and flinging them face first into a tree, which knocked them unconscious.

                Julien had recovered himself somewhat and lifted his riffle, taking aim at Gambit’s head. The gun cracked loudly and Remy ducked, rolling away as the bullets buried themselves in the tree bark behind him. Another flash of light as he produced another handful of playing cards and flung them again at Boudreaux, causing him to retreat further from the circle of the light behind the cars.

                The girl assailant rushed him, boat oar in her hands. She took a brutal swing at Remy’s head and missed by centimeters. The Cajun nearly bent himself completely backward to avoid the blow, but used it to his advantage, using the momentum to flip backwards, bringing his own boot up into the girl’s jaw. She screamed and fell back, dropping the oar and Remy heard her start shrieking as blood dribble from her mouth. She had bit her tongue.

                Someone came at him from the right; getting too close for him to dodge. He was a big fella, probably a former football player, with arms like tree branches. He got Remy in a crushing grip, pinning his arms to his sides and lifting him off the ground as he flexed hard against him. The constriction was deeply painful, not to mention stifling.

                “Another one! Where the fuck did he come from!?” he barked. “Billy get over here and help me wit ‘im!”

                “You fuckers are _amateurs_ …” Remy wheezed, before throwing his head back hard into the man’s face, smashing his nose and breaking his two of his teeth. The thug howled and dropped him, allowing Remy to slither to the ground just as “Billy” came running to help, chain flying.

                Gambit avoided the swing of it easily and managed to catch it on the second round, letting it wrap around his fist. He yanked the smaller brute forward with it and quickly allowed it to catch a charge of his energy. “First of all, you _never_ use your names in de process of committing a crime!”

                The kid shrieked as the chain exploded in a blinding flash that sent him rolling in the dirt.

                “Secondly, you limit your visibility, and your witnesses!” Gambit continued, turning now as another young woman came at him with nothing but a tiny pocket knife, screaming her head off. “And you keep your cool, even in de middle of a fight! Use your enemies rage against dem!”

                He quickly disarmed her, breaking her wrist and flipping her over his shoulder until she was flattened on the ground.

“Or haven’t you been fuckin’ paying _attention_ to De Guild’s lessons, Julien!?”

Another shot rang out and Remy caught the heated sting off one of the shells that grazed his thigh. Julien was retreating towards the cab of the car, firing as he went. Remy was forced to hit the dirt as he loaded another round and fired again.

                There was a momentary lull as the other thief scrambled into the cab of the pick-up truck. Remy rushed for the girl lying on the ground and grabbed her up, leaping to safety just as Boudreaux nearly backed over her.

                “Hang on, petite! Gambit got you!”

                The girl was a sobbing wheezing mess in his hands and she was gripped tight enough to him to leave bruises. The tires of the pick-up squealed and spun in the dirt as the driver made a hasty turn, dousing the Mutants in yellow light before gunning his engine and lurching towards them.

                Remy ran, letting the cab of the car get close before making a hasty turn on his heel, knowing it couldn’t follow as easily. He heard Julien cursing and screaming from inside as he made to turn around. Remy was gaining ground, heading back towards the bar through the field, hoping Julien wouldn’t be stupid enough to draw that much attention to himself.

                Unfortunately, he underestimated the man’s rage. The truck had changed course and was barreling towards them again. This time Remy wasn’t sure he could out run it.

                “Petite, I’m gonna toss you, understand?!”

                “What?!” she gurgled.

                “You roll, and if you can, you run!”

                “But I can’t--!” she wailed.

                “You gonna have to cherie!” He sent her tumbling to the run, feeling the bumper of the car coming up on him all too quickly. She screamed and went rolling across the grass, only a few feet from the screeching tires.

                Remy felt the heat of the cab baring down on him; within moments he would be run down. But he waited until he could almost feel it on the back of his heels before flipping once more and landing on the food of the cab.

                Inside Julien bellowed in surprise as Remy dented the hood , gripped onto it for all he was worth, glaring back at him crazily with those bright red and black eyes that seemed to be glowing.

                “ _I’ll_ _kill you, you freak!”_

                “Better men den you have tried!” Remy barked back, sending a jolt of energy through the cab of the truck that caused the whole mess to begin to glow. Julien recognized well enough what this meant by the panic in his eyes, and quickly took his foot of the gas, struggling to open the driver’s side door. Both he and Remy only had enough time to jump before now the completely luminous vehicle exploded in a shower of sparks and flame and rolled over in the grass.

                The deafening sound could be heard for several miles, and the blaze that rose from the totaled shell of former truck instantly attracted a host of attention.

                After such a huge expulsion of energy, Remy found himself feeling shaky, drained. It had been an impulsive, reckless move, and it had cost him far too much in stamina. He lifted his head from the ground and looked around, trying to spot where the girl had fallen.

                She was not far off, a few yards back. He could still hear her crying; which was an awful sound, but it at least meant she was still alive. The other members of Julien’s little goon squad must have picked themselves up and made a run for it, because he saw no sign of them. At least they were smart enough to do _that_ much…but Remy had seen all their faces; they wouldn’t get away with this.

                “Dis what you do wit your free time?” Gambit spat, pushing himself to his knees, “drive around backwoods and swamps, looking for harmless people you can prey on? You god damn bigoted little vulture…I knew you were somet’ing _evil_ Julien, but dis—“

                “SHUT UP!”

                Remy didn’t expect him to spring up the way he did, all hellfire and rage, the fucking gun still in his hand. He brought the barrel down harshly on Gambit’s shoulder, knocking him back to the ground with a shout of pain. Before he could retaliate he found himself looking down both barrels.

                “This didn’t _concern_ you, LeBeau. But here you are, sticking your _fucking nose_ where it don’t belong, like always! You goddamn mutie freak…you fuckin _disgrace_ to The Guild!”

                “Look who’s talkin’!” Remy bellowed back. “Your daddy know what you up to?! You get caught doin’ dis, I promise you dat de Guild will leave you ta the wolves, which is still better den you deserve! What have you done wit de other mutants?! You kill dem all huh!?”

                The blonde pushed the barrel hard against his forehead, forcing Remy flat against the ground. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Gambit.”

                “I know you ain’t smart enough to cook up a kidnappin’ and murderin’ scheme on your own!”

                Remy knew he should stop antagonizing the man who could at any second blow his brains out, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was feeding off Julien’s rage, as well as his own. The man felt poisonous to him, so full of jealousy, ignorance and blind malice.

                “I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about! That little bitch had it comin’…she lead me on; never told me she was a god damn freak like you! So I made her pay for putting her dirty little mutie hands on me…”

                The ground under Remy’s body was beginning to burn away as sparks of energy started to crackle off of him. He was beyond furious; his reason dissolving into something akin to blood lust. He grabbed the barrel of the shot gun with both hands, pushed back hard, and shot a charge through it so quickly that it exploded in Julien’s hands.

                He screamed and fell away, burned and blinded, his hands, arms, face and neck maimed by the explosion.

                Gambit himself felt the burn of the blast, but only just. He was getting to his feet, his eyes glowing with the heat of his energy rather than their usual ruby gleam. He was reaching for more cards; ready to finish Boudreaux off…

                He felt that spiking pain in his mind then and screamed, grabbing both sides of his head.

                _“Don’t even think about it.”_

                _“NNNNNAGH! GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”_

_“You’re about to make a big mistake. The police are on their way; run while you can.”_

_“HE DESRVES THIS!”_

Emma’s voice was calm and emotionless in his head; _“Maybe so. But let others deal with it.”_

                Gambit paused, some of his sanity returning. Her influence faded suddenly and he sagged to his knees, suddenly too tired to move, head throbbing. People were approaching them, sounding frightened and worried. Other Mutants from the bar…the police weren’t here. Not yet.

                Adrenaline still pumping, despite his growing exhaustion, Remy pushed himself to his feet and took off running into the dark. Several voices shouted after him, but he ignored them. Emma was right; if he lingered he would do something he knew he’d regret forever, and risk being caught in the act on top of it all. He doubted even his Charm would save him from those consequences.

 

**

               

                An hour and a half later found him staggering up the steps of the LaBouff’s front porch. There were no lights on in the house that he could see through the windows, and Eli’s car was parked in the drive just before the garage.

                He sighed tiredly, knowing he would have to explain himself…though he hadn’t the foggiest idea how to go about that just at the moment. He’d used up far too much energy, and taken on more injuries than he’d realized. His shoulder was nearly numb and there was a shooting pain that kept radiating down his arm into his fingertips.

                The blow he’d taken had probably cracked his rotator cuff or worse, but all that was a dim discomfort compared to the complete exhaustion that was now seeping into every fiber in his body. He’d never used that much force before, he’d never lost control that way…his powers were raw at the moment, unchecked and bleeding into all his senses. He still felt sick from the emotions he’d channeled from Julien, combined with the terror from the young woman and his own rush of fear, his nerves felt frayed at the edges.

                But more than that, his mind kept buzzing around the idea that this act of violence was seemingly spontaneous and random…having nothing to do with the disappearances. He’d made a big mistake, showing up at that bar. Yes, he might have saved a girl’s life, but he’d exposed his powers in a way he’d never dared before. It was like he’d set up a smoke signal…whatever trouble had been lurking at the edges of his life, would now surely home in on him. And he had no one to blame but himself.

                He struggled to open the door, finding his hands were burnt and blistered, only to have the knob suddenly jerked away from his grip as it came open from the other side.

                Remy blinked up into Eli’s face, seeing anger there, written clearly on the man’s usually sweet and jovial features.

                “And just where have you--?!”

                “I can explain,” Remy mumbled. In his mind it came out quiet and contrite and focused, but the actual sound was more like a fading groan.

                “My God! Remy--!”

                Gambit slid down against the door frame, hitting the floor without entirely being aware of it. Eli was grabbing at him, pulling him up, calling for help. Remy wanted to tell him that it was alright, that he was fine and he just needed to sleep and recharge. But the words never made it to his lips.

 

**

 

                It wasn’t quite light out when he woke up again, feeling comfortable but not all the way recovered yet. His memory felt patchy and fuzzy, like damaged film. He wondered, vaguely, if that was somehow the strange Telepaths doing.

                He knew he was in Eli’s bed, but he did not sense the man close by. Instead, another presence was sitting and his bedside, smoking a hand rolled cigarette and absently tapping his knee.

                “Mon pere…?”

                Jean-Luc sat forward then, his fidgeting ceasing at once and put his hand on the top of Remy’s head, as he had always done. “Hush, keep your voice down…I don’t want him coming in here just yet.” The dark haired man spoke softly.

                He moved from the chair to the bed and leaned over Remy so that he could see and hear him better in the dimly lit room, where the only light was the pale blue sheen of early dawn coming from beyond the curtains.

                “What happened?”

                Remy struggled for coherency; he still felt so drained. “It was Julien; I found him and some others attacking a girl—“

                “Why were you there, Remy? What reason do you have for being at dat _place._ You went askin’ for trouble, mon fils, and by God you found it.”

                “I didn’t know Julien would be dere….I wanted answers…about de other missing mutants.”

                “Missing people are a problem for the police department, not the concern of a thief!”

                “You don’t understand! Dese people, dey’re _my people_! I had to find out what was happenin’ to dem!”

                _“We_ are your _people_ , Remy.” Jean-Luc said, keeping his voice low but no less full of severity. “Though I wonder if you haven’t forgotten dat. De way you’ve been actin’ lately…all dis stirring up trouble wit Jericho and Essex, den disappearing wit’ out so much as a word to me or de rest of De Council, makin’ arrangements here under my nose…and now you openly attack Marius’s son!? Have you lost your mind!?”

                Fear possessed Jean-Luc in a way that Remy had never seen before. His frustration was deep, but his concern was deeper still. He gripped Remy’s bandage hand in his as tightly as he dared and kissed his fingers, struggling for composure.

                “I may not be like other fathers, Remy. Being what I am, I know dat I have placed you on a dangerous path in life. But I only did so because I saw your potential, and I saw your talent. I have done everything within my power to make de other Thieves understand what I see in you, mon fils. But tell me how I can protect you from _this_?” His voice caught in his throat and he paused, gathering himself.

                “Mon pere…I’m sorry.” He began. “But I didn’t ask for your protection.”

                Jean-Luc nodded and leaned over him, kissing his forehead and hugging him close. “I love you; never doubt that. But dis must stop…s’il vous plait…before it goes any farther.”

                “Someone is out dere taking people like me, making dem vanish. Do you not t’ink dat is wrong?”

                “I do. But it’s not your fight.”

                “Den who’s fight is it, mon pere, if not mine?”

                Jean-Luc gave him a long look, green eyes full of worry and heartbreak and subtle ire. “If you won’t see reason; if your own battered body is not answer enough to what dis crusade will bring you; den I will make it simple. You abandon dis investigation, you deny all knowledge of dese events…or you forfeit your place among De Thieves.”

                “But--!”

                “Julien is in a coma at St. Francis’s hospital. If he recovers, it’s very unlikely he’ll remember de events dat put him there. We will cover dis up; we will put de blame for his condition elsewhere, and you will stay here and continue as if _nothing_ has happened.”

                “You can’t do dat!” Remy barked, tears in his eyes. “What I did I did in defense! He was going to murder a girl, and me along wit her! I will _not_ lie, not dis time! Julien is not going to be made to look like de victim here!”

                But Jean-Luc remained firm. “I gave you my name when you joined my family, Remy. If you forsake De Guild now…den you forsake dat name as well.”

                Remy said nothing. There were no words. He sunk back into his pillows and closed his eyes, feeling them dampen angrily under his lids. Jean Luc released his hand and stood, putting out his cigarette and moving towards the door.

                “I’ll send Eli in now. He’s been absolutely frantic. He cares for you very much. I t'ink you could be happy with him; if you chose to be.”

                No answer.

                Remy felt the pinch of remorse and guilt radiating off his adoptive father, but pushed the feeling back violently, not wanting to empathize. “Dis is _wrong._ And you know it.”

                “I have lived with bigger sins, mon fils.”

 

**


	9. Chapter 9

 

**

               

                He stayed in bed all that day, sleeping or staring bitterly at the wall, saying hardly more than two words to his host. It wasn’t until supper time passed and Remy remained absent from the meal that Eli returned to his bedside.

                “Sugar,” he cooed quietly. “I’m awful worried about you. Is there anything I can do?” the cinnamon haired man asked, rubbing the smaller man’s back and shoulders as he lay facing away from him.

                Remy shook his head silently. He was expecting Eli to berate him, or at least complain that Remy was in breach of their agreement. He wouldn’t have blamed the man if he demanded that Remy go and return the money he’d already been paid in full.

                But Eli did none of those things. Gambit felt the larger man lay down beside him on the bed and put his big arms around him, nuzzling his hair and kissing his neck softly. “I admit, I thought maybe I had misjudged you…but seeing you on the porch like that last night, darlin’…oh you frightened me something awful. Forgive me for involving your Daddy in the matter, but as a father myself…”

                “It’s alright, cher. You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

                “Remy, I know this arrangement is…well, just that. And I am deeply fond of you, darlin’. Seeing you hurt like that last night….I realized how much you’ve come to mean to me.”

                Struck by this, the Cajun rolled to look at his lover’s face more directly, Eli adjusting quickly and keeping him wrapped close against him. “Oh I know I’m probably an old fool for sayin’ so, but I feel like I’m falling for you, sugar. You’ve made me happy; and not a lot of things have over the last few years have. What would you say to staying on a little longer with me?”

                “Eli,” Gambit kissed the man’s lips softly, “I couldn’t ask dat of you. I care for you too…but you’ve seen what kind of trouble I am. And I don’t want to bring dat kinda trouble in here, to you and Lotte.”

                “Then perhaps you would consider seeing me on a more personal basis…unless you’d rather not. And I completely understand.”

                “Eli, are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”

                “I’m asking you to think of me as something other than just a client, sweetheart. I care about you and I want to keep you close. Is that something you would consider?”

                Remy wasn’t sure what to say, studying Eli’s face in search of some sign that he was speaking under the influence of his Charm, or that there was some ulterior motive behind his sweetness. But Remy sensed nothing other than genuine sincerity from the man. His client was falling in love with him; normally this was a sign that he needed to distance himself. But this time he couldn’t.

                “Oui…”

                Eli grinned and hugged him tight, kissing him deeply. Gambit was snared at once by the heightened euphoria of affection coming off the other man, which was so potent it was like a rush to the head.

                “Oh sugar, you’ve made me such a happy man.”

               

**

 

                Julien’s accident was the talk of the town. The Boudreaux were an extremely prominent family in New Orleans and had a firm cover within the community as wealthy benefactors, whatever their secret status was among The Thieves Guild. Marius was calling his son’s assault nothing short of a tragedy, and made a note of stating for the papers that he would go to any length to find the culprit and bring him to justice.

                It was a foolish, impetuous move by a grieving father. Marius was digging his own grave with The Guild by throwing attention on himself. If things kept on this way, the matter would resolve itself without any of Remy’s intervention.

                It was Friday, and the Senator’s party was tomorrow night. Eli had already purchased and had a tuxedo tailored for him for the black tie event. Remy looked like a million dollars in it as well, and it was nearly all he could do to keep Eli from tearing the thing off him and taking him right there in the dressing room. Though Gambit wouldn’t have minded, really.

                No one spoke about the trouble at the bar. Eli agreed with Jean-Luc in that it was best to put the whole thing behind them and let other forces deal with the problem. Lotte seemed fairly concerned about possible repercussions from the other assailants, who had apparently fled the scene.

                Gambit promised her that nothing would come of it, and of this he was practically certain. It hadn’t taken him long to learn the identities of the other members of Julien’s gang; some were related to members of The Guild, others were school mates with Boudreaux. All came from families with more than a few skeletons in their closets, and with the desire to keep themselves _out_ of the limelight. If any of them _were_ brave enough to try to retaliate against him; he’d soon make them sorry they had.

               

                Eli had agreed to meet him for lunch that day at Duke’s, which had become their favorite haunt. The Councilman was busy tying up his weekly tasks and making sure everything was in place for the party, leaving to enjoy the perks of his new status.

                And Remy was taking advantage of it…in the worst way. Being the Councilman’s boyfriend allowed him access to places he normally wouldn’t have, and that made it all too easy for him to use his skills to take these privileges a step further.

                As he sat on a patio table outside the little café, he worked busily on the tablet that Eli had bought him as a gift. Remy had loaded a flash drive full of files; mostly newspaper articles, some police statements, and security footage, from around the city. All threads in the massive web of Mutant disappearances.

                So far, there seemed to be almost no pattern to the kidnappings. According to the police records he’d stolen, none of the victims seemed related in any way; all coming from different walks of life, varying in age, race, sex, and financial standing. The youngest was a fourteen year old boy, the oldest a sixty-five year old war veteran. The only common thread at all seemed to be that they were all from the city, or surrounding areas, and all had been identified by health officials as carriers of the X gene.

                Remy was baffled. Some of these people were known Mutants; as in they possessed some obvious mutation or deformity attributed to the X gene. Others seemed completely ordinary, exhibiting no extraordinary traits. What would Essex want with mutants with no discernable powers? Or powers that were less than productive…one victim had been listed as able to turn herself into a gelatinous state for days at a time.

                He knew there was a bigger picture here; that there was some small detail that he was missing that would illuminate the motive behind these crimes. But he couldn’t see it. Not yet.

                “Remy?”

                The Cajun nearly dropped his coffee cup all over his computer, startled by the sudden sound of an unexpectedly familiar voice. He looked up in surprise to see Jericho standing there on the sidewalk, staring at him as though he hardly recognized him.

                Drumm moved towards him, as Remy stood, quickly hiding his work. “You look…good.”

                Gambit chuckled. “You sound surprised.”

                “Well I heard what happened…Tante and Henri have been keeping me in the loop.”

                “Thoughtful of them.” The auburn haired man said stiffly. Jericho kept looking at him with this strange mixture of nerves and anticipation, as if he couldn’t decide how to present himself. Normally, Remy would have tried to ease his anxiety, but not this time. Gambit still found himself feeling somewhat bitter towards his friend.

                “Are you waiting for someone?”

                “Oui, my beau should be along any moment.” Remy said, glancing at his watch. Eli was due within minutes.

                “Your…wait, Henri said you had a client right now. Is that who your waiting for?”

                “What makes you t’ink dere’s a difference between de two, mon ami?” Remy asked. Jericho blinked his dark eyes at him, stunned and growing more puzzled by the second. “Are you dating your client?”

                Gambit sighed heavily and dropped down in his seat, clearly trying to disengage from the conversation. Outwardly he looked mildly annoyed, while inside he was struggling to keep from exploding on the other man, wanting to unleash his empathic abilities and let Jericho know _exactly_ how he felt.

                Drumm paused, collecting himself and sat down across from him, though Remy looked further annoyed by this. “I’m sorry…I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

                “Clearly.”

                “Hear me out,” his friend said more insistently this time. “I don’t suppose you listened to any of my voicemails.”

                Gambit shrugged. “Must have slipped my mind.” He knew was being mean, petty even.

                Jericho sighed, seeming to gather his energy; “Look…you were right to be pissed at me. What I said at the bar, and…what happened at Tante’s. I shouldn’t have acted that way…but _you_ shouldn’t have been tapping into my feelings like that either. It’s not fair, Remy. You play dirty and you don’t even fucking know it.”

                Gambit scowled. “But it’s de truth, isn’t it? You really t’ink dose things about me.”

                “I was _afraid_ for you! I just watched my best friend nearly get assaulted! Try for a moment to understand _my_ position, Remy. I care about you; is it so wrong of me to want to keep you safe?”

                Remy felt his teeth clenching. “Oui, it is. You, Henri, my own damn father…you all t’ink you have to keep me safe. I am a grown man, but ya’ll run around like I need ya to hold my hand or else I might walk out into traffic!”

                “That’s not what we’re trying to—“

                “Let me live my life!” Gambit barked, slamming his fist on the table and causing other to turn their heads. “Yes, I know I am a fuck up! I know I take risks, I know dat I don’t always t’ink t’ings through! But dey are _my_ choices and _my_ mistakes! What is it about me dat scares ya’ll so much?! Huh!? WHAT?!”

                Everyone was staring at them, and Jericho felt the ripple of Remy’s frustration wash over him like a blast of heat. “Remy calm down…”

                The Cajun blinked, glancing around at the crowd that was now watching them. They were all snared, entranced by his outrage, feeling it themselves. Some looked ready to fight, others seemed vaguely petrified by the strange unwanted feelings that now possessed them.

                He felt Jericho’s hand slide over his. “It’s okay. Sit down. Please.”

                Holding his breath, Remy managed to comply. Slowly the crowd of onlookers and other patrons went back to their own business, some completely forgetting what had grabbed their attention in the first place.

                “Oh Dieu…” he mumbled, hands to his mouth. “Dat’s it, ain’t it? I’m so stupid…”

                _“No,”_ Jericho insisted sharply but quietly, putting an arm around him. “No. I can’t speak for your family, Remy but you’re right…I need to trust you. But you have to admit, you make it difficult, the scrapes you get yourself into…”

                They chuckled together, breathing a little easier for the moment.

                “There you are, sugar! So sorry to keep you waitin’!” Eli’s voice called then and Remy almost cringed as Jericho looked back and got an eyeful of the man who was fast approaching them. Gambit didn’t need to be an Empath to know exactly what Jericho’s first impressions of Mr. LaBouff were.

                Eli came to his side and bent to kiss his cheek warmly and Remy returned to gesture, suddenly wishing his Mutant power was invisibility. “Sorry to keep you, honey pie. Who’s your friend?”

                “Jericho Drumm,” the other man answered, firmly and clearly, standing and extending his hand to Eli. “Pleasure to meet you.”

                “And to you, sir. Any friend of Remy’s is a friend of mine.” Eli was all smiles and easy charm, taking a seat close to Remy and ushering Jericho to sit back down. “Tell me, how do you two know each other?”

                “I’m a friend of the family,” the young doctor explained.

                “How nice! Well Jericho, why don’t you join us for lunch?”

                Tia bent over his shoulder then, delivering a refill for his coffee and Mr. LaBouff’s lemonade. Remy caught her sleeve and whispered; “Gonna need somet’ing stiffer, cherie.”

                “It’s barely noon.” She swatted at him but he gave her a pleading, insistent look and she sighed, nodding as she hurried away again.

                “That’s very kind of you, sir, but I’m afraid I can’t stay.”

                “Oh what a shame,” Eli said sincerely.

                Remy looked up at his friend again, this time swallowing his pride; “I’ll call you later, mon ami. Plan on comin’ around to Tante’s on Sunday for dinner, just like always?”

                “If you can pull yourself away.” Jericho muttered, then excused himself without another word. Remy watched him leave and was grateful when Eli put his arm around him and pulled him in close.

                “You two have a tiff?”

                “It’s…complicated, cher.”

                Eli chuckled softly and kissed him again. “People always are, sugar. But I’m sure he’ll come around, try not to dwell on it. In the meantime, what can I do to cheer you up?”

                He kissed at Remy’s neck, at the little sensitive spot under his right ear that was especially sensitive to Eli’s thick facial hair. Gambit chuckled in spite of himself and squeezed the Councilman’s knee. “I’m sure we can t’ink of somet’ing mon amour…”

 

***

                The party was being held at Senator Whitehall’s summer home; a grand estate that would rival both the LaBouff and LeBeau households. The event was being well documented and publicized by photographers and journalist; though Remy noted very few cameras or news crews happily.

                He kept close to Eli, but refrained from touching him too intimately. Remy was more than aware of his surroundings, and it was certainly one thing to be openly homosexual (though Remy considered his sexuality far more open than that narrow definition) in a largely conservative crowd, and another to be obviously Mutant (his onyx and scarlet colored eyes had never seemed more alluring nor starkly noticeable), and yet another to be acting as an escort for a public agent, while also being a member of the Thieves Guild; but it was more than a little brash to be all three at once.

                The ginger haired man seemed to sense his sudden reluctance and caught his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as they stepped inside the threshold. “Don’t tell me you’re intimidated by this bunch of wind bags,” he chuckled.

                “Desole,” Remy apologized, “I don’t want to put you in an awkward position, mon cher. Given my background and all.”

                “Oh please,” Eli scoffed, waving off the idea. “You just let _one_ of them say a word against you, honey pie, and I will send them running with their tale between their legs. I know these people well, Remy, probably as well as you know your father’s lot. I know all their little vices, most of their dirty little secrets, and I know where they spend their Saturday nights and their Sunday mornin’s praying about it. So don’t you worry that beautiful head of yours none, sugar. Big Daddy has it all taken care of.”

                Remy smiled and leaned up to kiss him, taking his arm and allowing himself to relax a bit more.

                The guest list was nearing three hundred, all politicians or other heavy hitters across the community, including Commissioner Dautreve. Remy recognized the sound of the man’s voice from across the room as he and Eli entered the ballroom that opened up into the expansive back courtyard, where a string quartet was playing.

                The Cajun was pouring on the Charm as he usually did at such events; but this time he wasn’t doing it for himself. Everyone that Eli introduced him to seemed to fall immediately under his spell, which made them far more open to hearing whatever it was that Eli had to say. Which was surprisingly a lot.

                It was Remy’s first real glimpse into the passion LaBouff had for improving the community, talking about everything from urban renewal, cultural revivals, community outreach programs and charities…Eli loved his work. And there was nothing sexier than a man who was open and upfront about his passions.

                They soon found themselves standing before Senator Whitehall himself. The man was tall, dark and distinguished looking and seemed a few years younger than most of his colleagues. “Eli! So glad you could make it!”

                The two men shook hands heartily, grinning from ear to ear. “How’s Lotte doing?”

                “Oh just fine, Thomas, just fine. Looking for someone to finally settle down with; if anyone is brave enough!”

                They laughed again, a little too loudly.

                Whitehall’s dark eyes slid to Remy, raising a faintly grey eyebrow in surprise. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,”

                “Remy LeBeau, c’est un Plaisir de vous rencontrer, M’sieur Whitehall.” The Cajun answered, shaking his hand and keeping eye contact with the older man, noting that hint of fascination and trepidation as he regarded him.

                “What fascinating features you have, sir,” Whitehall found himself saying, then blinked, feeling mildly embarrassed. “Forgive me if that was too forward. It’s not often I get to meet…”

                “Mutant’s not a dirty word, M’sieur,” Remy grinned, not looking the least bit bothered. “But I t’ink Mr. LeBeau will do just fine for tonight.”

                They all chuckled, Whitehall somewhat nervously, as Eli put his hand around Remy’s waist and gave him a little squeeze. “Why don’t you go on and get us a drink, darlin’. I don’t want to bore you wit all this political drabble.”

                “But of course,” Remy nodded, stroking his fingers over Eli’s for a moment before turning and sauntering away, knowing their eyes were lingering.

                “Eli, who is he? One of Charlotte’s suitors?” he heard the man ask.

                “Oh no, Thomas. He is all mine. _All_ mine.”

                Whitehall seemed harmless enough, Remy wasn’t worried about him in the least. Instead, he was concocting a plan to find the Commissioner and see what he could learn from him about the disappearances.

                He had just spotted the man from across the room and was about to make a move, when a hand brushed his arm.

                Remy nearly dropped his champagne glass as he turned and found Jean-Luc looking back at him.

                “Well…quelle coincidence!” the black haired man chuckled. “I would ask what you are up to, but it speaks for itself.” He glanced back towards where Eli was standing, gesturing and going on about something to the Senator about something.

                Jean-Luc looked back at Remy, but his son was not so obliging. Things were still rather raw between them, for all the elder LeBeau’s good intentions.

                “I’m surprised to see you here,” Gambit said, somewhat flatly. “Dis don’t seem like your particular crowd.”

                “Perhaps, but I was invited by several former clients, and it is always good to keep one’s ear to the ground on these sort of things.” He sipped his drink absently, and added a bit more cautiously. “And perhaps…I was hoping to have a moment alone wit you.”

                “Don’ seem necessary,” Remy replied. “T’ink you said all you had to say before.”

                Jean-Luc was trying; he knew he’d crossed a line. “Perhaps I spoke a bit too hastily. Too irrationally. A father does such t’ings when dose he loves most are put in jeopardy.”

                Remy said nothing, staring out at the crowd with a bored glower on his face. But Jean-Luc wasn’t giving up so easily. “What can I say to make you forgive me?”

                But Remy found he wasn’t much in the mood for forgiveness that night. He looked at his father sternly; “You knew what I was when you took me off de street; you said it didn’t matter, dat my abilities were gifts not curses because dey were part of me. I always believed you. But now you ask me to choose between what I am and good of De Guild….you knew dat was a choice I couldn’t make.”

                He turned and walked away, feeling the other man’s remorse and almost savoring it, despite the fact that it made his chest pinch and his throat burn. He needed distraction, escape. He was about to ask Eli to take him home, when he heard the man speaking, rather ardently to the Senator and several others.       

                “….all I’m saying is that New Orleans isn’t like any place else in the world! We gotta embrace that, we gotta keep our uniqueness alive, insteada trying to follow everyone else! We need to stand together, as a community and not give into the pressure that people like Senator Kelly are putting on other big cities. This Mutant Registration Act they are trying to pass is crossing the line…I know we’ve had our troubles, for sure, but we _know_ the problem isn’t just vigilantes and rogue Mutants stirring up trouble! It’s the people who are antagonizing them, _attacking_ them, when they done nothing wrong!”

                The broad chested man turned then, feeling Remy’s gaze. Before he could say anything else, Remy had crossed the threshold between them and pulled him into a heated kiss, making several on-lookers turn their heads.

                Remy released him after a moment, flashing a warning look at the lingering men, who quickly excused themselves as he pulled the Councilman after him.

                “Well,” Eli panted, rather pink faced after the intensity and impulsiveness of Remy’s affections. “I guess that means you liked my little speech?”       

                “I want you to take me right now,” the auburn haired southerner growled, half purring half demanding,

                Eli blinked, face going more pink with the thrill of the suggestion. “ _Here?_ ”

                “Oui,” Remy answered, rubbing up against him and slyly brushing his hand along the inside of his thigh and inward, teasing his lover into almost instant arousal with just a touch. LaBouff looked around hurriedly for someplace they could disappear to without being noticed.

                He took the Cajun’s hand in his head and hurriedly led him through the crowd, trying not to look overly conspicuous, until they reached one of the cloistered guest bathrooms on the second floor. Eli hurried them both inside and locked the door behind him.

                Remy was already hungrily prying at his clothing, yanking off his bowtie and popping the front buttons of his vest open, trying to get his hands under Eli’s shirt. The older man obliged him eagerly, kissing him deeply before yanking off his coat and pulling open the front of the younger man’s dress pants.

                The Cajun moaned loudly as the man gripped him roughly and started stroking him in quick, needy motions before turning him around and pushing him up against the sink, yanking his pants down past his thighs and pulling his naked hips back so that he could grind against him more fully.

                Remy gasped at his own reflection, seeing the larger man mounting him from behind. LaBouff pulled back his hair and nipped at his neck, whispering into the shell of his ear; “You need me, sugar?”

                “Oui!” Remy rasped.

                “You want me inside?”

                “Oui! Yes, si’l vous plait…fuck me.”

                Eli fumbled in his coat for something and Remy smiled when he felt the man slicking himself up, still grinding against him. But every move the Cajun made to hurry the process along was met by firm resistance, Eli keeping him bent partially over the sink, hands in front of him, bracing himself.

                LaBouff attempted to tease him with his fingers, but Remy moaned and whimpered impatiently. “Big Daddy! Do it, oh please, fuck me, fuck me hard!”

                Eli growled excitedly and obliged him, pushing inside in a rough thrust that made Remy throw his head back and grip the sides of the marble sink, white knuckled. “AHH! Yes! More, go faster!”

                Again the larger man complied, drawing back only to swing his hips forward again roughly, sinking more fully inside his smaller partner. Remy continued to pant and beg shamelessly, the wanton sound of elicit sex driving the normally prim and proper southerner mad.

                Remy’s own erection was pressed against the cold sink, which was not exactly pleasant, but the jolt of discomfort seemed to heighten everything else, wanting Eli to continue pushing against that sweet spot inside him consistently enough to make him cum without needing to touch himself.

                “Ahh! Ahh-hahaahh oh Jesus, oh _fuck_ Eli! Eli don’t stop!”

                The larger man smothered his hand over Remy’s mouth, trying to quiet his cries, half afraid and half excited that someone might hear them.

                Remy’s thighs started to shake from the tension and he felt the end was coming. Eli was already falling into that last spastic moment right before climax, ramming into Gambit hard enough to jolt him. Eli came first, fingers digging into Remy’s cheek and hip faintly as he did, muttering a hiss of pleasure as he emptied himself inside him.

                But Remy wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily, not when he himself was so close and drunk on the sensation. He squeezed himself around Eli’s still stiff cock and started to push backwards against him, wanting to maintain the friction as long as possible. Eli growled quietly and obliged him, leaning over his back as he drove deeper and making Remy stare into the mirror as he came undone.

                Remy screamed against his hand, finally hitting the threshold and spasming hard as he climaxed harshly and intensely at last. Eli cooed to him and chuckled, kissing the fringe of his sweaty hair, his neck and ear, feeling the throb of his pulse. “Oh sugar you are so beautiful…”

                The Cajun sagged against him, trying to catch his breath. Eli was quick to clean them both up, hoping to hide the evidence of their impromptu romp.

                “Well…not that I mind of course…but can I ask what prompted that?” he asked, trying to tuck his shirt back into his pants and fumbling with the buttons of his vest.

                “No reason,” Remy answered. “I just…needed you.”

                Eli chuckled and nuzzled him, “I’m always here for you, darlin’, for anything you might need. Even if it’s just a shoulder to lean on.” He kissed the Cajun’s forehead softly. “Take a moment and collect yourself, honey. I’ll be outside.”

                Remy nodded and let him leave, feeling suddenly embarrassed that his first impulse was to use sex as an escape. It may have been fine for other clients, but Eli was different. He was starting to see just how different.

                Once he’d made sure he was intact and looked not as though he’d just been fucked over a sink, Remy stepped back out into the world.

                At first, no one seemed to notice him. He was just another pretty face in the crowd, another guest in black and white, concerning, unassuming. But that feeling faded in a flash a moment later, when Remy felt an all too familiar chill run up his spine.

                It was the same eerie feeling of being watched that he’d felt when he’d left Eli’s office days before. He paused in the middle of the room, eyes scanning the crowd. Eli was no where to be seen, neither was his father, nor any other familiar faces.

                Until, out of the corner of his eye, the young Mutant caught a faint glint of red. He turned his head and looked on. Standing several feet away from him, looking at him with a smile of smug satisfaction was none other than Doctor Nathaniel Essex himself.

                “Hello Remy,” the man said in his smooth, silky and sinister tone. “I believe we are long overdue for an appointment, you and I.”

 

***


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****TRIGGER WARNINGS!*****  
> This chapter contains graphic depictions of rape, choking and attempted strangulation!! Please read at your own discretion, I want everyone to be safe! 
> 
>  
> 
> **also, randomly there was a missing scene at the beginning of chapter 5 that I added back in. Enjoy!

**

                “Fight or Flight” is an instinct Remy LeBeau knows well. Everything in his past, everything in his training told him that this was a moment where “flight” was the best option. He was in the middle of a crowded room, with a sizable distance between himself and his enemy. He could have easily disappeared, or he could have shouted for attention, most likely reducing the odds of Essex attempting anything aggressive against him, possibly even causing the man to retreat entirely.

                Yet this logic, this instinct, could not account for the drastic sense of rage that suddenly filled Remy LeBeau from head to toe. Seeing Essex standing there, looking at him so expectantly, brought everything else that had been boiling inside him to a head. Any man is dangerous when brought to such a point; a Mutant Empath is no exception.

                Remy stalked across the room in long, purposeful strides, his fists already beginning to glow as his energy bubbled to the surface. _“You got some nerve you son of a bitch…!”_

He was on Essex, fist raised, ready to feel bone crack under his knuckles, ready to blow the fiend to pieces, right in the middle of the Senator’s cozy little mansion. He’d have to go on the lamb, probably flee the country; it would be worth it.

                But the blow never landed. Instead, Remy found himself suddenly frozen in place, as if being held back by invisible strings. He gawked at the man in front of him, his frustration melting into sudden dread.

                “Hmm,” Essex smiled, appearing to be slightly giddy at how easily Remy had taken the bait. “Oh my, your eyes are quite _something_ when you’re angry, Mr. LeBeau. They shine; _glow_ even. A fascinating affect.”

                “You gonna see how much they _glow_ when I send you back to de pit you crawled out of!” Gambit hissed, still unable to will himself to move forward.

                “Oh darling, don’t be so cross.” Essex replied. He put his arm around Remy and pulled him close. “Act natural.”

                As if by command, Gambit’s stiff muscles relaxed and he found himself putting his own hand around the smaller man’s back, a laugh bubbling out of his mouth from some unbidden place. His adrenaline spiked, his eyes wide and terrified as he realized that his body was under someone else’s control.

                “How are you doing dis?” he breathed, trying not to sound as afraid as he felt.

                “It’s called telekinis,” the doctor answered smoothly, “just one of my many talents. Shall I show you more?” he added, moving now to guide Remy away from the rest of the crowd. Gambit tried to resist, but his limbs would not obey him.

                “Where are you taking me?”

                “Unimportant,”

                “I disagree,” Remy muttered. He turned his head, catching the eye of one of loitering guests. “Eli! Has anyone see Eli? Get--!”

                There was a sudden, stark pain that ripped through his mind; like someone driving an ice pick through his skull. It reminded him of what Emma had done to him; but the thought fizzled away into warm nothing.

                “Sir?”

                Remy blinked slowly and then smiled softly; “Apologizes,” he replied, voice sounding low and calculated, like he had to think about his words. “I’m afraid I’ve had a little too much to drink. What was I saying just now?”

                “Oh…that’s alright. Maybe your friend will get you some water,” the other guest nodded, looking at the pair suspiciously for a moment and then hurrying away.

                Essex grinned smugly and moved on again, Remy moving at pace with him without the faintest sign of struggle.

                Inside his mind, Remy found himself suppressed, muffled and muted, like being held underwater. The surface was right there, but he felt helpless to break through it and breathe again. It wasn’t an altogether unpleasant feeling. The thin realm of this suppressed conscious state felt warm, and almost comforting. Part of him wanted to slip deeper, give up all awareness and let this new presence take over. After all, it seemed to know what it was doing.

                But it was that dim knowledge that kept Remy from slipping deeper under the influence. He was still fully aware of Essex, aware of his closeness and his touch, and even his presence within his mind. There were whispers, or half dreamed voices, telling him not to struggle, that all was as it should be and that everything would be fine.

                But Remy didn’t believe that. Not for a second.

                Even under the smothering haze of Essex’s telepathy, Remy began to feel a prickle of pain creeping along his skull. He remembered distantly what Emma said to him…”Telepaths and Empaths don’t mix”…

                They were outside then, moving down the stairs towards the circular driveway where the valet was waiting.

                “Leaving so soon sir?” asked the man in his tailored valet uniform as the pair approached him.

                “Yes, I’m afraid the party was rather dull. Now if you’ll excuse us,” the pale skinned man muttered dismissively, trying to move past the young man.

                “Shall I bring your car around sir?”

                Essex frowned at him and the valet turned and walked off without another word, compelled by the man to vanish.

                “Ugh, humans…tiresome lot, don’t you agree?” he asked. He turned to look up at the man, seeming to relax for the moment now that they were standing quite alone together in the dark. “I saw you with that great ginger haired oaf…positively disgusting. I’m doing you a favor, my boy. I hope soon you’ll realize that.”

                “Why…” Remy mumbled, fighting for control. “Why you doin’ dis to me?”

                The Doctor looked at him intensely and pulled the auburn haired man in close, kissing him roughly. Remy moaned against his mouth, but was helpless to do anything but comply with the other mutant’s will, finding himself responding in a far too accommodating manner.

                The prickle of pain grew; and Essex pulled away, breathing alittle more harshly. “Stop resisting me, Remy. You don’t know what you are, you can’t appreciate your full potential; how could you—surrounded by people like these? But you’re meant for so much more. Oh if only you could see…”

                Remy hissed in pain then, feeling another jolt from his abductor’s mental influence. His mind flashed with strange and unbidden images. A frightening figure with deathly grey and blue skin dressed in armor; a creature of terror a vision of death and destruction. But he wasn’t alone. Remy saw others with him, all foreboding and formidable to behold, who were standing victorious on a battlefield littered with corpses.

                _“What is dis?! What kind of horror are you tryin’ to create?!”_

                Essex’s mouth on Remy’s neck, his hands keeping Remy still, despite the way his fingers anxiously brushed along his back and shoulders, hungry to touch him but seeming to enjoy the suspense.

                “I’ll tell you everything in good time, pet. But for the moment, you are all mine…and I do believed I am owed a little of that affection you are always so eager to bestow upon those unworthy fools.”

                His hand grabbed Remy’s wrist and squeezed it painfully, twisting it, and Remy whimpered faintly, despite the control the man was still forcing over him. “You _laughed_ at me, Remy…soon you’ll be lucky if you have enough air in you to _breathe_ much less _laugh!”_

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY BOY!”

                Sinister looked up, startled, his influence broken abruptly. Remy felt a rush as control returned to him, leaving him shaken and slightly dazed. Suddenly Jean-Luc was upon them, producing a small pistol from the hidden holster inside his suit jacket. He aimed the barrel squarely at Essex’s head.

                He fired a shot before the villain could react, and Essex howled and dropped back, nearly falling over the curb as he held his now bleeding ear.

                “Insolent cur!” the Doctor spat back, raising a hand. The gun went flying from Essex’s hand, and Jean-Luc himself was suddenly airborne, flying back several feet before crashing across the lawn with a groan.

                “WHAT THE SAM HELL IS HAPPENING OUT HERE?!” Eli’s booming voice came from the doorway then, as other onlookers screamed and shouted for help.

                Essex had his attentions turned on the large man barreling down the steps towards him, and the man on the lawn was quickly recovering from the blow he’d been dealt. He was smiling manically, blood still dribbling down the side of his neck from his wounded ear as he raised his hands, causing the both men to be flattened to the earth once more, crying out as though they were being crushed.

                “You think a band of backwoods rednecks is enough to keep _me_ from taking what I want, do you!? _IDIOTS!_ ”

                He was about to increase the pressure, make them crack open like cheap pottery and watch the others scatter in terror…until an elbow caught him sharply in the face, practically breaking his cheekbone.

                Essex tumbled back, and Remy spun and kicked him squarely in the chest, sending the man rolling out into driveway, just as a black car pulled hastily up to the lot, its high beams blinding them.

                Remy started to reach for his cards, fingers already glowing, but at that moment the car door opened and large figure reached out, something clutched in his hand. The next second there was a deafening din of sound that made them all feel like their skulls might shatter, and blinding flash that sent anyone still standing to their knees.

                When the ringing in his ears stopped and the blind whiteness began to fade, Remy felt hands pulling him up.

                “—emy?! Remy?! Sugar are you alright!? Talk to me baby!”

                Eli’s face came into focus and Remy shook the remaining dizziness from his head and hugged him fast and hard.

                A sizable crowd had gathered around them on the lawn, people talking in hushed, hurried voices, many on their phones already spreading word of the attack.

                Remy pulled free of Eli and turned towards his father, who was struggling to his feet. “Mon Pere!”

                His son seized him and held fast, checking him over for injury. “Daddy, are you hurt? Do we need an ambulance?!”

                Jean-Luc, winded and bleeding from a laceration across his lip, simply held his charge close with the same fierce embrace. “Pardonnez-moi…je ne sais pas ce qu’il etait! Mon Dieu, Remy…je etais tellement peur!”

                Remy nodded, leaning his head against the other man’s, “I know…I was afraid too.”

                Eli was beside them both, helping them steady themselves as Commissioner Dautreve came rushing forward. “Is anyone hurt? I have several squad cars en route, others are placing road blocks as we speak…”

                “It won’t do no good,” Remy panted. “Dat man’s more den anyt’ing you’re prepared for.”

                “Darlin’, let’s get you inside,” Eli suggested, but Remy shook his head insistently, “Non, non…s’il vous plaits, I just want to go home. Take me home.”

                Dautreve, a small, balding man with a round homely face that reminded them of an old hound dog, sighed and looked to Eli. “I can’t let you leave the scene sir, not until we get all this sorted out.”

                “Bill, you have my address. Can’t you see that he’s shaken? I’m takin’ him home, you can call on us there.” Eli insisted, and somehow the Commissioner knew there was little point in arguing.

 

**

 

                Four hours later, Remy was slumped in a chair in Eli LaBouff’s front parlor, nursing a drink and staring off at nothing while his lover rubbed his shoulders, and Commissioner Dautreve went over the details of the attack again from the beginning.

                All this time the man had been grilling him with questions, the same few over and over again, as if he didn’t understand or didn’t believe Remy. His father and Eli did their best to fill in the holes and attempt to take some of the burden off him.

                “Again, Mr. LeBeau,” the balding man muttered, “you say that this Doctor Essex used his powers to attempt to lure you into his car. You believe he was set on kidnapping you, which you believe he has done to others involved in the recent rash of missing Mutants?”          

                “Missing _persons_ ,” Remy muttered. “Or are we not ‘people’ to you anymore?” He was tired, strung out, and not even close to drunk, and it did nothing for his good humor. He couldn’t muster the energy to be cooperative, or hold the obviously inept man’s hand and walk him through the basics of Mutant Powers.

                “Ever since that creep showed up in dis town, people have gone missing, and I have to wonder how many of dem had experiences like mine. A man shows up at de door one day with an irresistible offer, and suddenly dey find demselves stalked and hunted, until dey end up on a flyer in the police station or worse! My question to _you_ , sir, is when are you going to start _doing_ something about it!?”

                “We have cars combing the streets for the getaway car, Mr. LeBeau. We are doing the best we can.”

                “Clearly dat ain’t enough.”

                “Remy,” Eli cooed, “darlin’, you need your rest. Bill, he’s told you all he knows. Let the poor man get some sleep?”

                The other man seemed to relent then, shaking his head and scratching the bristles at the back of his neck as Remy stood. Jean-Luc took Dautreve aside, and Remy vaguely wondered what kind of story he had concocted to answer his questions about their arrangement with Essex. But Eli had his arm and was guiding him along the corridor to their room.

                They stepped into the darkness together, Eli turning on the little lamp on the table by the door as Remy shrugged himself out of his clothes. The ginger caught him lightly from behind as he was undressing and hugged his close, kissing his shoulder. “Anything I can get you, sweetheart? You want me to stay?”

                But Gambit shook his head lightly, “Non, mon amour. I’ll be fine. Besides, I’m sure your friend has more questions, and honestly…I just need a little time to collect myself.”

                Eli nodded, though he looked disappointed. “Alright. Lie down, get some shut eye. You need anything, we’ll be right down stairs. I’m putting Jean-Luc up for the night here with us.”

                “Merci,” Remy nodded, not looking at the man fully. Eli took his que and left his lover alone. Only once he heard the sound of the man’s heavy footfalls on the staircase did Remy let go of the breath he felt like he’d been holding in since the fight.

                It infuriated him that he had not seen Sinister for what he was before, that he had not realized how _dangerous_ the man was. How many other people had the fiend done this to, he wondered. How many people had he lured in with his elegance and his intelligence and his promise of understanding, betterment, maybe even a cure…?

                The man was a predator, unlike any he had come across before, and he had his sights set on Remy. Gambit whimpered, shaking his head as he recalled the frightening images the other mutant had placed in his mind. What were they exactly? Some vision of a twisted dark future, or some sinister fantasy?

                Either way, Remy knew they would haunt him for some time.

                Discarding his jacket, vest and belt, the Cajun made a quick check of the room, testing the windows to be sure they were secure, drawing the curtains and making sure the door to the bedroom balcony was locked tight.

                Essex knew he would be at that party somehow; it didn’t seem too far fetched to think that he might know where he was staying, or that he might try another attempt to collect him.

                Remy paused at the window over-looking the street and scowled out into the inky blackness, illuminated only by the little halos of light caused by the street lamps. He knew he had made Essex angry; even more so than he had already been. Further more, he’d allowed him to escape back out into the world…there would be repercussions…he just wasn’t sure how quickly they would come.

                Finally he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, exhaling tiredly. His head was still throbbing from the strange invasion it had endured; yet somehow he suspected it had hurt the other mutant worse. Outside he started to hear the sound of rain tapping against the glass of the windows.

                Remy dropped back against the comforter, hands in his hair, massaging his temples in an effort to ease the ache. Everything was quiet now except for the pitter patter of the rain, which was moving from the occasional tap to beating hum of a steady downpour.

                His eyes began to slide out of focus, his attention drifting. It would be all too easy to drop off to sleep then.

                There was a noise then from out in the hall, like a door being slammed shut. Remy sat up, rigid and staring and swept himself from the bed, sleep forgotten and made his way towards the door, listening.

                No further sounds, no sign of a struggle, Maybe Bill had closed the door too hard behind himself as he left; maybe Eli had finally gotten tired of him and thrown him out. Either way, the house immediately turned to its previous placid stillness.

                But Remy heard it too late…the quiet sound of a lock being picked, the faint creak of the hinge as it was pushed open ever so slowly. As he turned, hands came around him harshly, smothering his cry of surprise before hurling him to the floor.

                Remy yelped upon meeting the hardwood floorboards so harshly, but he was quick to recover, kicking out at the figure behind him, attempting to strike him in the neck. He didn’t expect the man to block his blow so easily, or suddenly, with only the will of his mind, cut off all of Remy’s breath and send him levitating into the air.

                Dangling there, grasping at his own throat and the invisible vice that clenched around it, Gambit found himself face to face once more with Essex.

                “You thought it would be _that_ easy?” the man mocked him, tightening the grip enough to make Remy’s wince, his face starting to turn dark red from the pressure and the lack of oxygen. But just when he thought his fate was sealed, the pressure released and Remy found himself flung onto the bed, rasping for breath and coughing hard.

                “I’ve tolerated a lot from you, Remy. More than I would from many. I wanted you to feel like you had the upper hand; I wanted to see how you would handle yourself, given the choices you were handed.”

                “W-what are you--?’

                Sinister slapped him and grabbed him but the hair, forcing him face down on the bed before grabbing his right arm and twisting it painfully behind his back, holding him in such a position that any struggle would cause the bone to snap.

                “AHH!”

                “Don’t _interrupt_ ,” The man hissed. Remy balked, feeling panic rising in his throat. He hadn’t recalled Essex being this strong before; what had changed? “As I was saying…I wanted to see how you would handle yourself, once you knew about my research. Unfortunately, you acted just as I feared. It’s not your fault though, darling…Mutants raised in ignorance of their own kind, of their own potential…what else could I expect?”

                “You’re no _friend_ to Mutants, Essex! _You’re a disease!”_

Essex pulled his hair roughly and brought him back against him, breathing heavily against his neck, making Remy shiver. “You still think _they_ can save you? Or do you actually believe you can take me on yourself?”

                The Cajun bared his teeth and gripped the sheets with is free hand, ready to ignite them and throw them in Essex’s face just in time for them to explode.

                But nothing came. No glow, no pull of energy through his muscles and finger tips…nothing. Remy gasped loudly, trying to will his power on, but to no avail. Essex chuckled against his skin and changed the position of his arm, allowing Remy to bend his elbow and fold against his back, allowing the sinister man that much more proximity to him.

                “What did you do!?” the younger man shouted, trying to buck back against him to free himself, but to no use. Essex was like a boulder pressing against him, heavy and completely immovable, no matter how much force he used.

                “I think I mentioned before that I had a great many talents,” the pale skinned man grinned, moving his other hand around Remy’s torso to untuck his shirt and began pulling it open, little by little. “Your powers are great, Gambit, but you’re still learning what they are, how to control them. _I_ on the other hand am not nearly so adolescent in my understanding of mutations…or how to manipulate them.”

                “You can’t do dat…you can’t _do_ dat!” the man beneath him cried.

                Sinister laughed again, that cruel, mocking laugh that would ring in Remy’s memories from that moment onward. His shirt came back harshly, being yanked down his arms, but it stopped there and his attacker used the slack to fashion a binding around both arms, effectively restraining him.

                It should have been a bond that Remy could have broken free of easily…yet he could barely move. It made no sense; his mind was screaming that it all made no sense, yet it was all right there in front of him, clear as day.

                He didn’t know what to expect next…Essex staid right behind him, hands casually and exploring his skin, finger tips tracing along the faded marks left by his own cane days before. There seemed to be no rush to the man now, he lingered and paused, taking his time, unthreatened by the idea that others were just downstairs.

                All Remy had to do was call out to them…they would come running, break through the door…

                _I’ll kill them both. It would be easy. Like snapping a toothpick._

                Remy growled in frustration and fear, his face still pressed roughly into the bedding. “What are you gonna do, Essex? Skin me and absorb my powers or some other sick shit?!”

                Nails raked across his skin and Remy gasped sharply as he felt blood drawn. “Don’t be so crass, Remy. It’s unbecoming. In fact…let’s cut out the mindless chatter all together, shall we?”

                He felt that same strangling pressure on his throat again, though this time not as harshly. It was more like an invisible hand was choking him, slowly, almost softly.

                The man behind him continued to explore him, feeling muscles beneath tan, quivering skin, moving from his neck down to his shoulders, scraping across his torso and moving lower. Remy attempted to twist away from the unwanted touch, to resist somehow, but no movement he made seemed to amount to much more than a quiver.

                He wasn’t sure how villain was doing this, but it frightened him in a way nothing in his life ever had before.

                “You don’t like being helpless, do you?”

                _FUCK YOU_ , Remy wanted to scream. Only a faint gasp escaped his lips however, his throat being squeezed slightly tighter now, making his lungs burn more instantly now as his vision blurred a bit. He’d lost all feeling in his hands and arms below the elbow; they might as well have been encased in concrete for all their use now.

                The man’s gloved hands moved to his waist and Remy felt himself tense tight like a coil when one reached down to brush across his groin. He tried to shift away, but again failed. He forced out a grunt and felt his throat burn with the effort.

                _“Don’t! Don’t touch me!”_ he cried out, knowing somehow that the other man could hear his thoughts.

                In return, Essex gripped him a little more fully and squeezed him lightly, earning a rush of blood through his shaft that made him thicken and twitch. Remy felt a rush of heat to his cock and felt his hips sway forward, pushing into the gloved palm that was wrapped around him, suddenly hungry for attention.

                _“I don’t want dis! Stop!!”_

                “It would very much appear otherwise, darling,” the man whispered in his ear, continuing to tease him through the thin fabric of his dress pants. “We both know how much you wanted me , sitting there in your father’s private parlor, watching you preform for me. You wanted to impress me…you’re attracted to power, Remy. Power and danger. A deadly combination, but certainly, the high is unmatched.”

                Another rush, this one making Remy feel a tightness in his guts and thighs, and earning a little moan of pleasure as well. The slow deprivation of oxygen was making him lightheaded, tingly and yet deeply aroused.

                He whimpered in spite of himself, still trying to shake off this invisible hold. He didn’t want this, he _hated_ it, but he couldn’t deny that it felt good, almost to the point of being painfully good. Somehow Essex seemed to be manipulating every nerve, muscle and blood vessel in his very being, fine tuning their response to his actions as if he were tinkering with a radio dial.

                The Doctor kissed his neck and shoulder as if to calm him and pulled him upward then, allowing the man to turn with him and wrap his body around him more completely as he made Remy sit in his lap. “I can be that someone for you, Remy. Someone for you to put all your trust into, all your cares and woes…give me control and I will give you _everything_.”

                Remy felt the pressure on his throat lessen then, just the tiniest bit. The man was waiting for him to answer.

                “Non.”

                His rejection was rewarded by a harsh squeeze of his throat and a jolt of pain that replaced the steady hum of pleasure that was building inside him. He tried to scream but it came out as only as only a rasping sound and Essex forced him to be still, though his muscles were straining and contorting, skin shining with sweat.

                The pain faded then and Remy almost wept, feeling the man pull him back against him, stroking his hair and heaving chest to calm him. “I don’t enjoy hurting you.”

                “Liar…” Remy managed to hiss.

                Essex was a small, almost fragile looking man, yet Remy could feel that he had changed, he felt bigger, more solid and….Remy twitched like a nervous horse when he felt the man’s erection pressing hard against him.

                “Shh shh…you weren’t expecting that were you?” he cackled. “You mocked me before when we clashed in the alley…you thought me weak…I’m going to make you regret that misjudgment.”

                He knew what would come next, but he made no move to stop it. What could he do? He was so dizzy he could barely think, his lungs burning and thirsty for air, his powers gone, his hands tied…Essex was right. He was powerless against him. He was almost sure then that he had been from the very beginning.

                Things began to fade and melt away…the room around them seemed to have a dark, red-tinged haze to it as Remy felt the man thrust up inside him, earning a loud cry of pain and pleasure that tore out of his mouth.

                The man was lifting him and slamming him down again and again, at a pace that allowed Remy very little time to process each sensation, it all became a blur of feeling and broken, disjointed images that he wasn’t even sure were real. Essex’s hands felt like they were literally everywhere, touching, probing, scratching, clawing, possessing him inside and out. Nothing Remy did made any difference, he may as well have been paralyzed. All could do was moan and rasp and feel his muscles tense and throb and try in vain to either dislodge himself or…to push it further, to drown in the sensations entirely until everything else was gone.

                It felt like it went on for hours, and Remy teetered maddeningly towards the edge of an intense orgasm with no sign of relief. The build up was becoming painful, his body completely useless as anything other than something for Essex to devour and abuse. He’d stopped thinking about trying to breathe…he wanted to black out. He wanted _something_ to break and allow him release; _any_ kind of release.

                “So close, Remy, so close….I’m not sure how much more your poor mind can handle…one second it feels so good…”

                Another rush, this time more intense than the last. Remy jolted and let out a quivering wail; it was right there, _right there_! His cock was leaking, throbbing but not spent, he just needed one more little push…

                “…but then the next…”

                Everything burned and ached, his muscles were so tired, his lungs felt like burning coals now, and that was to say nothing of the deep throbbing pain that kept ramming itself up inside mercilessly over and over again. He sobbed, tears running down his face…

                _Oh Dieu please just end it, end it, please, please I can’t take no more please!!_

Essex cradled his head and kissed him. “Are you mine, Remy? Are you ready now?”

                “…yes…”

                Essex gripped him forcefully and suddenly everything came rushing to a head. Remy screamed, contorting harshly against the other man, feeling himself empty abruptly and painfully. He could breathe. Air rushed into his mouth and nose, filling him up, but the sudden rush of oxygen created an intense head rush that quickly obviated everything else.

                And then like that, it was over.

                Gambit felt himself falling for a moment, and then suddenly he was on the floor. Seconds ticked by a in a haze; he couldn’t move, he couldn’t even speak. His mind was trying to catch up with the damage, trying to compensate, focus…

                It started as a whimper, a tiny moan, then it grew into a shaking wail that filled the room. He heard the immediate thundering of feet running up the stairs.

                His vision started to clear and he looked around frantically in the dark; not knowing where Essex was, just realizing that he’d raised the alarm. But there was nothing to see; the room was empty, save for the shadows created by the skewed light of the toppled lamp.

                The door opened just as Remy was trying to push himself up on all fours. Jean-Luc reached him first, hitting the floor on his knees and pulling the shaking figure to him. “Remy!? Remy what—“

                “—here! He’s here!” he rasped, voice shaking and hoarse.

                Jean-Luc looked up fearfully as Eli moved around them, quickly crossing the room, tearing aside curtains and looking in doors, searching for sign of the assailant or where he had gone.

                The older LeBeau gathered up his son’s shaking figure and managed to place him on the bed. “What happened? Did he attack you? Are you hurt—Remy look at me!”

                His son’s eyes were like he’d never seen them, wide, dilated and haunted, looking everywhere but seeming to focus on nothing.

                “There’s no one here! I’ll check the landing!” Eli shouted, and Jean-Luc noted the man had grabbed a gun from his desk as he moved towards the balcony doors. “I’ll pump that fucker full of lead if I see so much as a hint of him!” he cursed.

                “He’s here,” Remy rasped again, clutching the other man’s arms, afraid to let go. “He was just here…”

                “We’ll find him,” He looked at Remy nervously, but other than his obvious state of emotional distress, he seemed sound. “What did he do, mon fils?”

                Gambit shook his head, wide eyed and started to sob out of shock and shame. Jean-Luc held him, terrified, “Get ahold of yourself, boy! Take a breath…come on, lets get some cold water on your face. That will help.”

                He got Remy up with some effort, the younger man’s legs didn’t seem to want to support him, and it seemed to pain him deeply to walk. Once inside the bathroom, Jean-Luc propped Remy against the sink.

                It was only then that Gambit realized he was still dressed…

                “Come on, let’s get your clothes off. Did he hit you? Did he bring someone with him?”

                Remy barely heard him, now staring at his reflection in the mirror. Not only was he still completely dressed, at least as he had been just before the attack, but there were no bruises on his neck. Jean-Luc helped him out of his shirt and Remy ran his hands across his skin, expecting to see scratches and bruises in the shape of Essex’s fingerprints…but there was nothing.

                “Remy? Mon fils you are scaring me…”

                “He raped me.”

                “What?”

                “Where were you?” he gawked, turning to stare at his father, who was now looking at him with a new expression of barely reserved dread. “He was right there…right there in that room…how did he get in? Why didn’t anyone hear us…it went on for hours… _didn’t you hear?!_ ”

                “Remy…” Jean-Luc said quietly, “You’ve only been upstairs for the last ten minutes or so…”

                “NON!” he turned to look frantically at his reflection again. “NON! YOU’RE LYING! HE WAS _THERE_ , HE TOOK _EVERYTHING_ FROM ME AND I… _I COULDN’T EVEN FIGHT BACK!”_

Jean-Luc reached for him but Remy flung him back and turned and slammed his hand into the the mirror, which exploded in hail of hot glowing glass as a charge erupted from his hands. The Cajun screamed and wrapped his arms around himself, dropping to his knees on the floor, his hands now bloodied.

                Jean-Luc wrapped himself around him and pulled him away from the debris, letting the shaking man wilt against him as they sat in the doorway. “Hush, hush…I’ve got you, bebe. You’re safe now.”

                Remy cried; cried like he hadn’t since he was a child. They were pretty words, pretty promises that were sincere and well meant…but they were useless. He wasn’t safe. How could anyone ever be s _afe_ from a creature like Essex?

 

***


	11. Chapter 11

 

***

 

                Remy took a long shaky breath and bowed his head. He had surprised even himself; his fingers shook and there were tears in his eyes. “Merde…”

                Over the years, Sinister had done him so many injustices, had tortured and hounded him so badly, that it all had run together in a blur, losing detail and focus as the months turned into years. In a way, the subsequent tortures had lessened the blow of this first one; buried and numbed it, pushing it too far down in Remy’s subconscious to see the light of day. But now here it was, exposed fresh and raw, and he found himself surprised, and perhaps disappointed at how much that old wound still pained him.

                Ororo put her arms around him, drawing him close and letting him rest his head against her shoulder while he collected himself.

                Logan was standing next to them, staring, fingers nervously flexing. He’d been pacing during the story, and his agitation had grown increasingly until this point. Storm fixed him with a look, understanding his distress but begging him to stay calm.

                But Wolverine found it impossible. “That bastard…that sick fucking freak…”

                “Logan,” the woman interjected, her voice calm but commanding. “Go get some air.”

                Wolverine grunted at her, not liking to be commanded by anyone, especially not when his temper was up and his outrage was so visible. He looked nervously to Remy, feeling his distress, hoping that he understood that his anger was not directed at him. “Go,” Storm said again, more softly this time. “I’ve got him.”

                Finally the dark haired feral nodded and excused himself.

                Sitting across from their position at the edge of the bed, Hank looked on with haunted eyes. “Remy…I had no idea…” He thought back to the state Gambit had been in when he arrived at Xavier’s, the obvious origins of his wounds, and more presently still, the abuse he’d suffered under Creed’s most latest villainy. The pattern of abuse was becoming quite clear, and Hank felt his stomach churn at the idea of it.

                “You know, it’s funny…dat was one of de worst moments of my life…but it wasn’t even real. You understand what I mean? It happened…but not in a way anyone could understand. I barely understood it myself at de time.”

                “A telepathic invasion of that manner…”Hank continued, his voice suddenly deeper, more guttural, all but a snarl as his own outrage started to bubble upward. “It’s beyond criminal, beyond forgiveness…I know from experience, with Charles and other telepaths, what that sort of mental manipulation and emersion is capable of…to think of anyone so A moral that they could just--!” His fist balled and shook and he growled, low and animalistic, full of fury.

                But he stopped himself, exhaling slowly and looking piteously between Remy and Storm. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

                “Merci, Henri. But what’s done is done,” the Cajun replied quietly, “no amount of wishin’ or anger will make it otherwise. I survived…all dat counts in de end, d’accord?” He tried to smile, but it was pale compared to his usual grin.

                Hank nodded and stood, “I’ll check on Logan.”

                When they were alone, Ororo hugged Remy harder and kissed him, looking at him with deep intensity. “I’m so sorry for what that man took from you.”

                “It wasn’t real, cherie. It was an illusion, an elaborate nightmare that I could touch and feel…Essex wasn’t in dat room dat night.” He seemed embarrassed, angry in spite of himself. “I don’t even know what to call what he did to me…physically I was completely untouched. Can’t exactly call dat assault.”

                She gripped his hand, “He was in your mind. In a way that’s even worse…Sinister invaded not only your body but the one place on Earth no other being should be able to invade. What you endured was real, Remy, even if it was invisible to everyone else. It was real.”

                Gambit stared off, seeming more shaken by her words than assured and Storm cuddled him closer. “Thank you…for telling us. I know it was difficult for you; I’m honored you would trust us with this.”

                “I love you, Ro. Don’t want no more secrets between us…even if de truth is hard to swallow sometimes.”

                “Tell me…please tell me at least your father understood. That you had _someone_ to talk to about this.”

                The lanky southerner shrugged; “Like I said…it’s hard to put a name to somet’ing like dis. Jean-Luc knew somet’ing bad had been done to me, but dere was no evidence, and I was…well I wasn’t much help at first. Too messed up, too scared. You ever doubt your own mind, cherie? You ever t’ink dat maybe cause no one believes you….dat maybe it didn’t happen at all? Maybe you gone crazy?”

                He was rambling, the words coming out in a stream of consciousness as he continued to process his own long buried feelings on matter. But when he turned to look at her again, the expression on her face brought him back to the present with a jolt. He had never seen her look that; his Ororo, who always so strong, so brave, and so assured of herself. He’d never seen her look so suddenly and deeply vulnerable. She was crying; but her expression was hard.

                “Don’t you _ever_ let anyone tell you it didn’t happen. Don’t you ever let anyone make you believe you imagined it, or you made it up….what do they know? _Nothing._ ”

                “Ro,” Remy gasped, his own troubles pushed aside, suddenly full of concern for her. “Ro, what…” She put her arms around his neck and pressed her head against his and sobbed; but it was more of a bitter sound, like she resented it being pulled out of her, than one of complete sadness.

                But Remy felt it then. An empathic imprint; Ororo, young, naïve, and all too trusting, being cornered in a car by a man who’d offered her a ride home. A man who saw and opportunity and tried to press his advantage. She didn’t know then that men were like this; she didn’t know that men who seemed nice could be evil on the inside. She just didn’t know.

                He blinked as the image vanished and held her tighter as she settled against him; both seeming to hold the other up. “Cherie…why you never tell me…?”

                “The same reason you’ve kept your pain a secret,” she answered. “Because we don’t like to appear more vulnerable, more damaged than we have to.” She tried to smile and more tears fell.

                “Did he…?”

                “No,” she answered, fast and firm. “There was a struggle…I was still learning to control my own abilities. In my panic I electrocuted him. The police found him later, ruled his death a freak accident.”

                Remy could feel the tension in her back, her the tightness of her breathing as she struggled to compose herself again. But she didn’t need to, Remy kissed her neck and her shoulder, stroking her back, “I’m glad you got away, Stormy. You did not’ing wrong. Let de guilt go, cherie.”

                “I killed a man.”

                “In defense. No shame in dat.”

                She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and looked at him, puzzled. “Remy, I don’t understand you…all the abuse, all the people who have hurt you…you’ve never resorted to that.”          

                “I have de misfortune of havin’ enemies who don’t exactly die easily,” Remy corrected. “Believe me, dere are days when de anger takes over and I want dem to hurt as badly as I have. But dere are pains I wouldn’t wish on even Essex and Creed…guess it’s de curse of being an Empath.”

                “You’re stronger than people give you credit for. I don’t know that I would have had your strength to move on if it had come to that. I can’t even imagine…” She seemed shaken by the idea, and Remy guessed that the experience had left a deeper mark on her that she was letting on even now. So he just held her tighter, pulling her into his lap.

                “It don’t mean nothin’, petite. People have hurt us; _all_ of us, in some way or another. But we don’t choose revenge, even though some of us may still want it…we try to move on, we try to heal. Dats all anyone can do, Ro. Pick ourselves up and keep going.” He smiled at her and kissed her again. “But if we lucky…we don’t have to do it alone.”

                “I love you.”

                “Je’tame aussi.”

                They smiled at each other, forehead to forehead. The link between them was open and strong, and the pain passed, leaving a deep warm sense of relief and comfort. Storm was wowed again by Remy’s abilities, happy to emerge herself in this strange link between them. When they were happy together, like this, it was like sinking into a hot spring; all the aches and pains of the outside world melted away.

                “Been my experience dat damaged people, especially dis kind of damage, seem to attract one another. Like we all sense it somehow, dat we all carry dat same sort of sadness. Logan got it for sure…you t’ink he gonna be okay?”

                “I think he’s going to mutilate something until he feels better. Nothing hurts him more than seeing people he loves suffer, especially when he can’t do anything to prevent it.” She answered honestly.

                “Does he know?”

                “Yes,” she nodded. “We only talked about it once. It seemed to disturb him deeply…I don’t think he left my side very much for several days after, and I recall him become particularly protective during a skirmish we had. “

                “De man loves fiercely, no denyin’.” The auburn haired man sighed, “his heart’s more fragile den any of de rest of him, dat for sure.” He stood and took her hand. “Better go give Beast a hand.”

                They walked the halls, noting that the noise was beginning to die down. Students were retiring for the evening and older alumni were no doubt out enjoying the freedom that came with the weekend.

                “So what then? Did The Thieves Guild go after Essex?”

                Remy shook his head; “Non, cherie. Not so simple as dat.”

                “Did you go after Essex yourself?” she sounded nervous. She knew that this story did not have a happy ending…at least not yet. Yet part of her wanted desperately to know that Sinister’s violation hadn’t been what made Remy give into to the man. It just didn’t seem like him.

                “I confronted him, yes.”

                She squeezed his hand a little tighter. “Part of me really wants this story to end with you making Sinister regret ever having crawled his way out of the primordial pit…”

                “I wish dat too, cher. I wish dat too.”

 

***

 

                Eli returned to the room, hearing Remy’s sobs and Jean-Luc’s quiet mutterings in French. Somehow matters had gotten worse, and now Remy’s hand was bound with a bloody hand towel and there was glass all over the floor.

                “No sign of the villain,” Eli panted, “I’ve already alerted Bill, he was on his way to the car to radio for help.”

                Jean-Luc nodded to show that he’d heard the man, as Remy was at that moment completely incoherent. Eli wanted to reach for him, to offer some sort of comfort, but the younger man flinched away, hiding and the elder LeBeau only shook his head. Now was not the time.

                A moment later a new noise erupted from downstairs and they heard the Commissioner shouting for them. A moment later the balding, pot-bellied man appeared in the door, sweating and blinking and heaving with the effort for air as he stared at the three men within the bedroom.

                It seemed clear that the man was taken aback by the scene, blinking and shaking his head. “Bill? What is it? Spit it out man, did you find something!?” Mr. LaBouff barked.

                With a great swallow of air the Commissioner nodded; “Yes, yes…call just came in from dispatch. They tracked the car down; they have Doctor Essex in custody.”

                “There! See, darling, everything’s alright now, they caught they bastard…”

                “Not exactly, Eli,” the Commissioner said, looking from the large mustached man to the two men crumpled on the floor. “He was apprehended more than eight miles from here; it’s impossible that he could have gotten that far so quickly…”

                He fixed Jean-Luc with a questioning look and for a moment, the dark haired Cajun struggled to make sense of the statement, almost doubting. But the way his son shook in his air, his obvious pain and anguish…even Remy was not that good of a liar. “Dat man was here, Commissioner. He _did_ dis. He’s a mutant, as I’m sure you know by now, it’s entirely possible he was able to teleport, or replicate or whatever de hell it is he’s capable of!”

                Bill seemed to contemplate the idea, though it seemed very vexing for him. He crouched down by Remy, attempting to put a hand on his shoulder, but the younger man flinched away from his touch almost violently. “Son, I know you’re hurting. I’m gonna get an ambulance here and take ya on down to the hospital, have you looked at…”

                “Non!” Remy hissed. “I don’t want anyone else to touch me…it hurts…”

                “Bill, can’t we—“

                “I’m sorry, Eli, but I can’t let you have your way on this one. He needs examined, anything that might be left behind could be evidence.”

                Eli nodded sadly and together he and Jean-Luc managed to get Remy to his feet. “Can we at least drive him down ourselves?”

                “If you insist.”

 

**

               

               

                The exam left Remy feeling worse than before. Although the nurse who conducted it was more than kind and sensitive to his distress, it was quickly easy to see that Remy was physically sound. He felt her thoughts, her irritation and her confusion. His behavior did not match the physical evidence, but there was no way he was faking his trauma…

                Eventually he found himself sitting alone on the edge of an emergency room bed, waiting for tests to come back. The ER was busy that night, crowded and loud. Every little noise made Remy cringe and tense; it was like the world had been turned up to full volume and he couldn’t drown it out.

                Worst yet, the side effects of whatever Essex had done to him had left him unable to turn off his Empathic and Charm abilities. He was getting readings off everyone within a yard of his room; catching mostly glimpses of pain, anxiety or other feelings of sickness and general malaise. On top of this, he could hear the staff talking about him…it was nothing good.

                “…I heard he was an escort for some city politician? You think that’s what this is, a prostitution case gone aray? Now he’s yelling rape…probably trying to extort the poor man….”

                “…no idea, but he sure is a fine looking thing…think I could go check his blood pressure…?”

                “Stop! He’s traumatized…that much is clear. Should we get one of the doctors from the pysch ward down here to evaluate him?”

                “…right away. He’s probably faking it, but hell with that face, I’d believe anything he told me!”

                Remy held his head tried to push it all away, to go numb, to go quiet and away in his mind. But everything inside his mind felt…scrubbed….scrapped…as violated as the rest of him did. He couldn’t understand why he felt pain everywhere, yet no marks were visible. How Essex could have forced himself inside him that way and there not be tears…none of it made sense.

                Maybe he was crazy. Maybe it was a nightmare. Maybe that was the whole idea…to plant these thoughts, these feelings inside his head and make him believe something had happened when it hadn’t….

                His head throbbed again. It hadn’t stopped hurting since the party, when the Doctor had forced his way inside his mind…that same stabbing sort of throb…

                And then he remembered Emma.

                It was the only other time he had experienced pain like this; when the young telepath had forced her way through the barrier of “static” that surrounded his mind. Could that be Essex’s real power? Telepathy? He wasn’t sure what it meant…not yet. But he knew he had to find out more; and from the man himself.

                The curtain opened and Remy flinched at the sound, glancing over his shoulder to see that Jean-Luc had returned from the lobby where Eli was still talking to several officers about the attack. He was carrying his jacket and a small black gym bag in his hand. He moved around the bed and came to Remy’s side at once, putting his arms round him again and tucking him under the thin hospital blanket to keep him warm. Remy clutched his hand, trying to give himself an anchor, to focus on another presence that was stronger and still filled with warmth and light, unlike his own. His father was like a beacon in the dark, trying to lead him back home.

                “Has anyone come in yet?” the older man asked quietly.

                “Non…but dey’re all so loud…wish dey’d all just disappear, can’t t’ink straight…”

                The other man nodded in understanding and reached into the bag that he had laid at the edge of the bed and pulled out a hooded sweatshirt, t-shirt and a clean pair of lounge pants. “Why don’t you put dese on? Make you feel better, being in somet’ing clean, get you outta dat gown.”

                Remy nodded gratefully and dressed himself, still wincing and hissing at invisible injuries. The man beside him looked on, troubled.

                “Do you t’ink I’m crazy?” he asked him bluntly.

                Jean-Luc blinked, seeming startled by the question. “ _Non_ , Remy. I t’ink you’re as sane as you ever were.”

                Gambit nodded, but felt little comfort in the statement. “Desole,” he muttered, slipping into the hooded sweat shirt digging his long fingers into his messy hair as if pulling on it, “I brought dis on myself…I wouldn’t leave it alone and I didn’t act quick enough…”

                Jean-Luc moved closer, “Dis is not your fault. You didn’t ask for dis, _no one_ asks for dis.” He looked at him with deep sincerity. “If anyone to blame, it’s me. I ignored Mattie’s warnings, I ignored your fears and my own common sense. When I took you into my home, Remy, I promised you dat I’d keep you safe from t’ings like dis…” He hugged him hard and fast and Remy felt him exhale shakily and knew there were tears on his cheeks. “I’m going to make it right, boy. I’m going to punish dat bastard…I’ll find a hole so deep in the world his bones will never see the light of day again.”

                Promises of revenge did little to comfort his son, but Remy let the man have his anger. He attempted to rest for a time, still waiting to hear back from the Doctors. But minutes ticked by, turning into hours, and no one but a few nurses came in.

                Remy began to doze and Jean-Luc let him, figuring he needed the rest. At some point, where minutes or an hour had passed, Remy felt his father kiss his forehead again and whisper something about coming right back…it might have been a dream. He started to call after him, to will himself up and ask him to stay. He didn’t want to be alone…but sleep pulled him deeper instead.

                His heavy eyes closed again and he slipped under again, consciousness fading for a little time. But something; a twinge or an internal alarm went off no longer after, urging him to wake again. His eyes opened with some difficulty and he saw movement at the edge of his bed. His vision was blurred, he felt sedated and stupid. He was sure it was Jean-Luc returning, until the figure spoke.

                “Getting any rest, Remy?”

                Essex’s silky voice made his eyes fly open, wide and bloodshot and terrified. He scrambled away, nearly falling out of the bed and grabbed for the button that dangled off the edge of it to call for the nurse.

                The Doctor smirked in amusement at the man’s abject terror. “It’s a terrible cliché, but we both know that button won’t bring help running. In fact, I’m afraid everyone is tied up at the moment.” He glanced towards the curtain and Remy realized that all sound outside had ceased. The pale skinned man moved back the curtain to reveal that the entire ER seemed to be momentarily frozen in time; all the people frozen in place, immobile and unperceiving.

                “How are you doing dat?”

                “My mind is my greatest power, Remy. It has taken me a great many years to grow my abilities; but it has been worth every sacrifice I have made.”

                “Yeah…what sacrifice would dat be?” Gambit muttered. “You don’t seem de type to give up what you want.”

                “I doubt you could fathom what I have given up to become the man who stands before you. Your world view is far too narrow, too self-centered. The bigger picture doesn’t exist for you; yet.” He stepped closer and Remy backed away, hands full of pillows and sheets, which he could quickly weaponize if need be. “They don’t believe you, I’m sure you know that. In fact, despite the combined efforts of your chubby friend and your tenacious father figure, they all think that you are lying…and dangerous.”

                Remy said nothing but glanced nervously towards the curtain, thinking about the conversations he’d been overhearing.

                “They’ve already called the MRD; they’ll have this place surrounded in under an hour.” He gazed out the window, dark eyes narrowing and the strange red diamond on his forehead glowing faintly. “Make that a half hour.”

                “The what?”

                “The government calls it the Mutant Response Division. But you and I both know what it really is, Remy. They’re coming to take you away, to lock you up, and maybe if you’re lucky, all they will do is wipe out your memory and start from scratch…or maybe you will be considered too dangerous for that.”

                His words were powerful, and frightening, yet Remy could not say they were a threat. Not in the manner he expected, at least. In fact, Essex seemed to be completely sincere, perhaps even morosely honest at the moment. “You mean like dose poor creatures I saw up in Canada? Dat what happened to dem?”

                “More than likely, yes.”

                “And what’s my alternative den? Go wit you? You gonna do de same t’ing dey planning, I expect. Is dat what you did wit de others, Essex? You hunt dem down, kidnap dem, cut dem up to see how dey work and dump dem somewhere, after you’ve taken what you want?”

                Sinister leaned on his walking stick, still watching him intently. “It might interest you to know that most of those Mutants are safe and sound, Remy, finally free of the shackles of their human oppressors, able to live up to their potential; working towards the greater good of all Mutants.”

                Gambit stared at him, sure he was lying, yet Sinister seemed so intent that it was hard to gauge, especially without his empath abilities. “Did it never occur to you that I might actually be trying to _help_? That I’m not the villain you are so ready to believe. I understand that the world I have shown you, the things I have opened your eyes to may be frightening at first…but that makes them no less valid, and no less a reality.”

                “Good guys don’t do what you’ve done, Doctor,” Remy hissed. “Dey don’t stalk people, dey don’t threaten, they don’t _lie_ and dey don’t—“ he couldn’t bring himself to say the last part, but his lips quivered faintly.

                Sinister smirked. “You are a naïve child. There is no good or evil in the world. Only those who are fit to survive and those who are not. I want you to do more than just survive, Remy. I want you to _live._ ”

                “Bullshit.”

                Abruptly the man was beside him and Remy made to yell but the man was grabbing him with surprising force, dragging him close and staring him in the eyes, even as he felt his brain burning with the abrupt intrusion. “You stubborn, ignorant little fool…haven’t I taught you yet who it is you should fear?!”

                He looked down a second too late to notice that Gambit had charged the pillow in his hand and had thrust it against Essex’s chest. The Telepath shouted, but was blown back by the explosion, causing him to fly into the wall, where he cracked the plaster and drywall and collapsed upon the ground groaning.

                Remy stepped out of bed, hands still glowing, eyes a brilliant shade of magenta. The air around him crackled. “You made dat very clear, Essex. You showed your hand too soon…you’ll never have me. I’ll never be part of your sick crusade. I’ll take my chances wit de world out there, no matter how much it may hate me.”

                The black haired man looked up at him, the diamond on his forehead shining a deeper crimson as he leered. “Then you will watch your world burn down around you, Remy LeBeau. One by one…I will turn it all to ash. I will be all you have left.”

                Remy grabbed a tray from the bedside table and flung it at the man, watching it explode again. Immediately the frozen ER came to life as Essex lost his control. Sirens and alarms began to sound as people rushed to clear the area around the explosion. In the chaos, Remy was able to make a run for it, bobbing and weaving through the crush of bodies in the busy hospital floor.

                He was nearly to the exit when he saw Jean-Luc, who spotted him in turn. The older LeBeau followed him as they escaped out an emergency side door and went running into the empty parking lot. Remy found that doing so was painful, but he pushed down the pain, more frustrated than ever that his body was still reacting to the phantom injuries.

                “What happened?” the older man panted as they ran.

                “Essex paid a visit,”

                Jean-Luc stopped abruptly and looked back at the hospital, which was fading now behind them as they sprinted their way through the long empty lot towards the adjoining cemetery that lay on the opposite side. “How did he--?”

                Remy shook his head, “Not important,” he insisted. “Point is, he ain’t exactly finished wit me. I gotta so somewhere he can’t follow.”

                “And where would dat be exactly?” the mustached man asked, looking frustrated at his own helplessness in this new and unnerving situation.

                Remy drew them deeper into the shadows as they left the lot and vanished under the thick willows that dotted the old grave yard, watching as police and fire trucks, as well as large black van pulled into the front drive of the building. Remy noticed the initials on the van “MRD”

                “Tante’s…if her magic can’t help me, den I’m good as done for anyhow.” Gambit nodded.

                “Alright, let’s find and a car and—“

                “Non,” Remy insisted quickly, looking at him sternly, ruby eyes seeming to gleam like a cat’s in the deep shadow. “You need to find Eli and send him home, make sure he don’t talk none to nobody else. Den you and Henri need to go…”

                “Go? Go where?”

                “Anywhere; de house in France maybe, or down to Port Au Prince for awhile…anywhere, Daddy. Just not here.”

                “Did he threaten—“

                “Dat man don’t _threaten._ Threaten implies he might be bluffin’…I don’t t’ink Essex pulls any punches. Why would he, not wit all dat power.”

                “Remy, we’ll go to the Guild, we can hide you, we’ll go away, _all of us_.”

                “Daddy for once in your life _listen to me!!”_ Remy shouted, feeling tears fall down his face. He grabbed his father and hugged him hard. “You saved me all dose years ago, now please let me do de same for you and Henri. I will be fine.”

                Jean-Luc grasped him tight, not wanting to let go, but the sound of more cars and voices carrying in on the humid night air told him he must. “Je’tame Remy.”

                “Je’tame aussi.”

 

***


	12. Chapter 12

                The drive to Tante’s cabin the bayou usually took him thirty minutes, but Remy made sure it took him two hours. He switched cars twice, and drove with the headlights off where he dared. He couldn’t trust that someone wasn’t following him.

                His senses were keyed up, filling him with a stiff, aching tension that he didn’t dare release. He felt no sign of Essex’s presence, no pain or tingling in his mind. Yet that didn’t mean the man wasn’t trying to seek him out. And now Remy had another force to deal with…the MRD. He past several of their vans and narrowly avoided a roadblock created by them on his way. He didn’t know which force to fear more.

                Finally, however, he found himself walking in the dark, down the pier towards Tante’s home. He heard things gliding through the deep dark water just a few feet below him, and felt the buzz of mosquitos as they tried to take their share from him. His eyes adjusted quickly and easily even in the most abject darkness, and he moved with the swift silent nature granted to those of his profession.

                The cabin was quiet and nearly dark, save for one window that was gleaming pale gold with lamp light. Remy smelled incense burning and heard faint mumbling and chanting. Mattie was no doubt consulting with the Loa’s, seeking guidance.

                He disembarked from the little boat onto her dock, and climbed hurriedly onto the porch, stopping her to glance back through the thick murky darkness for any sign that he had been followed. But nothing stirred there but the nocturnal creatures, who knew this place best.

                Remy slipped inside the door and closed it quickly behind, pausing to exhale a deep breath as he sagged slightly against the frame. He already felt safer here. Tante had placed many spells of protection around the place; spells powerful enough to cloud even an all seeing eye like that of his tormentor.

                He heard the clack of beads from a back room as Tante emerged, looking concerned and ready to fight, as if she expected some intruder. But her features softened the moment she laid eyes on her favorite LeBeau child, and she rushed him, arms wide. Remy fell into them and hugged her hard.

                “Shh, shh. Don’t say a word. I already know. I already k now everything.”

                Gambit only nodded.

 

**

 

                Remy slept all the rest of that night and late into the next day, waking only momentarily and returning to sleep without disturbing the woman who harbored him. When he finally managed to pry himself from the jaws of exhaustion and the black harbor of sleep that had sheltered him from the turmoil of his reality, it was to the smell of herbs and incense burning again, and Tante muttering in an urgent, hushed tone from the other room.

                Disoriented and stiff from sleep, Remy stumbled from the bedroom and into her private sanctuary, where she housed her shrine to the Lao and other spirits, who sharpened her gift of foresight and healing.

                “Tante…?” he mumbled thickly, staring at her from the doorway. “You sound upset…somet’ing I should know about?”

                The woman turned and Remy saw the bags under her dark eyes and the worried creases between her brows and around her mouth. Remy had seen that look on the woman before; whatever she’d seen, it wasn’t good.

                “Feelin’ any better, bebe? You slept so long I was startin’ ta t’ink you’d just go ahead and stay dat way.”

                “Guess I needed it,” Remy mumbled. “But dat doesn’t answer my question.”

                The woman rose from her kneeling position on the floor and straightened herself, pushing back her hair and squaring her shoulders. “Never you mind dat, bebe. You know I need my privacy about dese things.”

                She moved past him, back out into the main room of the cabin, which contained the kitchen and the narrow living area. She immediately moved towards the stove; “You hungry honey? How about I whip us up some supper?”

                “Mattie,” Remy said, a little more firmly. The woman stilled, but didn’t turn to look at him. Remy never called her “Mattie”. It was always “Tante” or some other affection form of her name. “If you know somet’ing about what Essex is gonna do next…I need you to tell me now.”

                “Foresight is a very powerful gift, Remy, bestowed upon very few. But de future is only a shade of what _might_ be. The visions I see, de voices I hear are only shadows of t’ings not yet passed. I must regard them for what they are…and recognize dem as possibility over fact.”

                Remy frowned, “I know you came to Jean-Luc. You tried to warn him about what Essex would do if he was invited into our lives. Well…seems de Loas were right about dat, I suppose. In fact, as long as I’ve known you, never been a prediction come to you dat ain’t turned out right in some way. So I’m asking you…did you see somet’ing?”

                She clenched her hands in a frustrated, helpless way and then let them lax, laying them on the old counter top with a hefty sigh. “I prayed dat dey would give me guidance, dat dey would show me de path for you to take to stay safe…but dey don’t answer. Maybe your fate is still too uncertain for even dem to see.”

                Remy took this in for a moment, not sure if he believed her, but then nodded and backed down. “Seems like I’m gonna have ta duck outta town for awhile,” he said after a long moment. “Maybe a long while dis time.”

                “I know.”

                Remy’s face crumpled into a frown that seemed to be barely stifling another round of tears, but he kept them back and just shook his head, threading one nervous hand through his messy hair and tugging at it anxiously. “Well…dere ain’t nothin’ for it, s’all. Let the heat die down here awhile, then make a run for it. You t’ink your spells can keep out a telepath?”

                “My spells can keep out anything I want dem too, bebe.” She answered resolutely, moving towards him and cupping his face between her rough palms. “You’re safe here, Remy. I would keep you here beside me if I could, but I know you too well, mon petite. You got a restless spirit; keeping you caged up here in dis old shack would be worse den just about anyt’ing else.”

                He chuckled in spite of himself and leaned down to hug her tight. “It will be okay, Tante. Maybe dis will finally put him off my scent…send him looking for me elsewhere.”

                “You think dis man will be so easily put off now?”

                Remy wasn’t sure, all he had was hope. “I t’ink dis town is crawling wit government agents who are headhunting for Mutants. Essex won’t want to present himself as a target if it’s possible, I wager.”

                They both knew it was a gamble, a thin hope, a shot in the dark. But they were used to having such things to cling to. Finally, Remy shoved his hands in his pockets and forced a smile to his face, grinning at his mother-figure, “Ya got anyt’ing good ta eat, Tante? Not much works up my appetite like adrenaline and desperation.”

               

**

                Night was falling again and the two Cajun’s spent the time playing cards and listening to the radio croon on without much talk between them, except idle chit chat. Dark clouds swirled overhead and the wind rattled the old shingles on the roof, thunder rolled softly in the distance but the storm was talking it’s time reaching them. It made them both antsy.

                Remy was already making plans, mentally checking off his list of contacts and out-of-town resources; Guild sympathizers and other personal friends who might be willing to lend him a hand. But he needed to keep information to a minimum, and he needed to go places where his powers were less known. Which was difficult. Under the Guild’s protection, Remy had never really felt the need to _hide_ his gifts. He displayed them often, and openly in close company, and especially for those he worked for. Now he wished he had been a bit more reserved with his powers, a bit more careful with his friends…maybe a name change was in order. A quick alias until the heat died down. He could always make new friends, after all.

                All this was rolling through his head, churning the same way the sky was outside, when he heard the crash of a bowl hitting the floor, ceramic shattering on the floor. Remy pulled himself away from the screen door and hurried back into the kitchen where Tante was standing, gripping the table top, her broken mixing bowl and it’s splattered contents at her feet.

                Her eyes were wide and milky and she was gasping loudly.

                “Tante?! What is—“

                “JERICHO!” the force at which she pushed the word out startled Gambit even further as he gripped her arm, only to have her turn and clutch at him, her nails digging into his skin. “He’s in the house…the Doctor…the man who calls himself by a wicked name…he’s in the house. He’s setting the bait for a trap…Jericho doesn’t know…”

                She heaved another sharp gasp and screamed. “He’s in danger! Terrible danger! De house is burning, oh my God, Remy de house is burning!”

                Gambit didn’t wait for further details or explanation. He pried Tante’s hands from his arm and took off towards the door, barreling down the pier and rushing for the boat. He could still hear the woman screaming from inside her cabin as he made for shore, a ball of ice lodged in his guts. He had no way of knowing if Tante’s vision was of something that was happening now, or of something that would happen in the near or even distant future. But he wasn’t taking chances. Mattie Baptist was rarely ever possessed in such a way by her gift; the sudden grip of it seem to signal imminent doom to the young man. A doom he might already be too late to prevent.

 

                Remy saw the smoke from three blocks away. He raced down crowded sidewalks and dashed across intersections and street corners, moving as fast as his long legs would carry him. But about half a mile from the blaze, he found the road blocked by fire and police. Remy took to the roof tops then, largely unseen from the gathering crowd below.

                Smoke and flames erupted from all three stories of Jericho’s home, the heat of the fire stifling and searing from even one house away. Three fire engines were attempting to drown the blaze, and Remy looked down at the crowd, searching for some sign of Jericho among the gathered medical team. Gambit searched the blackened windows for some sign of movement, and then heard a shout from the street below.

                “Someone’s still inside! We can’t get to him, the second floor staircase is completely gone!”

                Remy’s eyes widened and he felt a hard lump in his throat. From his vantage point on the roof, he had one clear shot at getting into the flame swept house through a narrow window on the third floor. But if he went it, he might never get back out.

                It didn’t matter.

                He took off at a run, pulling out his staff and using it to valt himself across the gap between the two buildings, stabbing it through the window as he crashed through in hail of broken glass and splintered wood.

                He heard a cry go up from the crowd below; someone must have seen him jump. No time to worry about that now. Inside the air was hot and thick and filled with ash and smoke. Remy choked on it immediately and had to drag his shirt up over his face in order to breathe. He moved low across the floor, hearing the roaring crackle of the fire as it consumed the house around him.

                “JERICHO! JERICHO! WHERE ARE YOU!?”

                No answer came, and Remy kept moving along the wall, forcing open doors and trying to see through the smoke, searching for any sign of his friend. He finally came to the last room on the upper level and found the door ajar. There were no flames here yet, but the smoke was heavy and acrid. His eyes watered and stung and he could barely see a few feet in front of his face.

                But he found Drumm, collapsed upon the floor, looking as if he’d taken a beating. Remy shouted and dropped beside him, dragging him up and quickly checking his breathing, which was labored and thready. The man had no doubt inhaled a decent amount of smoke. He took off his trench coat and covered the unconscious man with it and turned, only to hear a loud pop and bang as something else erupted into flames. A fireball forced him to retreat further into the smoke filled room. There was only one window here, too small for either man to escape out of.

                Remy snarled, knowing he was trapped. Keeping Drumm shielded from the flames with his coat, he turned to the wall, feeling for a weak spot. This was going to take a lot…more energy than he was used to expelling in one go. It was going to attract a lot of attention; it was going to weaken him. No other choice.

                Remy bared his teeth and forced a surge of kinetic power forward until the hot rush of it was surging through his core and out through his arms and hands. Flickers of the pink colored energy crackled like heat lighting all around in the burning room, as the wall absorbed the charge. Gambit pushed himself back just as it all erupted, blowing a hole through the structure and showering the ground below with debris.

                Air rushed in, Remy heard the fresh din of sirens and screams from people outside. He turned, feeling shaky on his feet, and grabbed Jericho up again and made towards the open wall. Already police and firemen were appearing below.

                “STAY WHERE YOU ARE! WE’RE COMING!” one of them shouted.

                Remy nodded, glancing back nervously at the room, seeing that doorway was now bared by flame, and the room itself was quickly crumbling under the stress of the explosion. The officers were moving a large inflated mat into the yard for them to land on, but they were struggling.

                The ceiling was starting to come down…Remy couldn’t wait any more. Bracing Jericho against him, he jumped. The crowd below screamed as he plummeted onto the half inflated pad. He didn’t so much bounce as sink, hard and fast. Jericho’s limp form jostled against his, bones and muscles crushed in the fold as they rolled until Remy lost his grip.

                People were clamoring towards them, trying to pull them free. Gambit almost resisted, his head clouded by the lack of clean air and the rush adrenaline and fear. Someone was covering his mouth and nose with an oxygen mask as he was pulled aside, the crowd cheering for his efforts.

                “Jericho! Jericho!” He called again, trying to pull away as he saw his friend being carried off and placed on a gurney. “Is he okay!? Someone—“

                “Sir, calm down, he’s in good hands. We need to take care of you.” The fireman assured him, leading him towards the waiting paramedics. “I don’t know how that wall opened up, but if it hadn’t…”

                Remy barely heard him. His eyes were following his friend as he was carried away, and then shifted towards the crowd, to the people cheering and gasping, staring at him. Among the blur of faces, Remy thought he recognized a singular one. A pale, fine featured man with dark hair and dark eyes, looking at him with a piercing gaze through the crowd.

                Too many people. Too many possible casualties. Too little room to fight. Jericho still in danger. Remy’s face hardened and he turned and knocked the fireman and the paramedic aside and bolted. They shouted after him, the closet police officer commanding him to stop. But Remy was too fast. He broke through the back lot of the house, leaping over the fence and darting through another side yard, dashed across the busy street—nearly being hit by several cars—and vanished into an alley, all before the officer had a chance to get within ten feet of him.

                Gambit ran. Eventually, he came to a stop, hiding on rooftop of some tiny business, just a mile or so from the hospital where Jericho had been taken. There he staid, crouched in the shadows, still feeling the burn of smoke in his lungs and the drain from his expelled energy.

                It had been a trap. Of course it had been a trap. Essex had promised him that if he didn’t comply, he would watch his life burn down around him. He hadn’t expected the man to be quite so literal.

 

**


	13. Chapter 13

 

**

               

                Three days later, the rain had set in, hard and heavy, chasing even the staunchest New Orleans native into their homes. The gloomy atmosphere seemed to mirror the sullen and anxious feeling that had fallen over all those who shared ties with the name LeBeau.

                Jericho recovered in the hospital, giving statements to the police that he had been attacked by Essex, but there was no evidence, and furthermore, no sign of the man in question. Neither was there any sign of Remy; who’s image was now splattered across the front pages of every new page for his heroic rescue and subsequence disappearance.

                Gambit appeared to have gone dark; even Jean-Luc seemed to be at a loss to contact him. But the seasoned Thief knew how to handle these situations. Exposure was devastating for any member of the Guild, fail safes had to be put in place.

                Remy knew it would hurt his father to cut off contact like this, but he couldn’t take chances. The less his family knew of his whereabouts, the safer they would be.

                But there was at least one more loose end he needed to tie up.

                He stood under the bow of the heavy magnolia trees that lined the lavish yard, staring through the grey curtain of rain at the house beyond. Cars and television vans had been swarming around the LaBouff house for days. Jericho hadn’t been the only target, of course.

                Security footage of Remy and the councilman in his office together had somehow leaked to the press and now there was a whole investigation going on, accusing Eli of embezzling city funds and spending them on a male prostitute, who had been exposed as a Mutant and was wanted by the MRD. Eli was scandalized, possibly ruined. And there was nothing Remy could do about it.

                He knew he should have left well enough alone; cut off all contact and left it at that. But he needed to apologize, he needed to explain…he could have been happy here. He should have been happy here. But he had ruined everything.

                He waited until there was no further sign of comings and goings from the house and that Eli’s bedroom light was on, before darting his way across the lawn and scaling the porch to the second story roof. He climbed onto the balcony, dripping wet, hair hanging in his face and crouched there in the gloom, listening at the door.

                Eli was on the phone with someone, going over the most recent interview he’d suffered through. The joyous notes in the man’s voice had all but gone; his voice was stressed and sullen these days. Remy felt a deep pinch of guilt for allowing this happen.

                He inched his way into view, peering through the glass and quietly tried the door handle. Eli had his back to him, still listening intently to whomever was on the other end of the line. Remy stood and waited, until the man caught a glimpse of him in the mirror and turned in surprise.

                “Oh my God…”

                Gambit said nothing, staring at him nervously with a contrite expression on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Eli had already hung up the phone and was crossing the room towards him, grabbing him and dragging him close.

                His ruby eyes widened in surprise; he wasn’t sure what he had expected Eli to do upon seeing him again, but it wasn’t this. “Desole,” he muttered against the man’s thick shoulder. “I’m so so sorry…”

                Slowly Eli extracted himself, looking the smaller man over again and pushing his wet hair out of his face. “Where in God’s name have you _been_ boy?”

                “I can’t say, cher. Gotta keep under de radar.” He answered, glancing at the phone lying on the bed. “Dat de Sheriff you talkin’ to just now?”

                “No. My lawyer, actually.”

                Remy’s face sunk further. “Eli, I never meant—“

                “I know that, darlin’. I was the one who sought you out, remember?” he offered Remy a small smile and Gambit tried to return it. “But I have to admit…I never expected things to go as sour as this.”

                “Are dey pressing charges?”

                “That’s to be determined. The tapes they found are…well, they are pretty damning, even though you and I both know that what they _say_ happened ain’t even close to the truth. But nobody wants to believe that just now. But they will. It’ll all come out in the wash.”

                Remy didn’t look so sure.

                “How’s your friend? Poor boy…nothing short of heroism, what you done, jumping outta that building to save him! Lotte and I saw it all on the news…how they can praise you one day and turn around and damn you the next. People are so fickle Remy; and that’s coming from a politician.”

                “Jericho will be alright.” The Cajun nodded quietly. “So long as he stays clear of me. Which is why I’m here, Eli. I just…wanted to say goodbye.”

                “You…you’re leaving? Again?”

                “I got to cher.”

                “Darlin’, please…I know you’re afraid. I know this man has you thinkin’ the world’s closing in on you, got you thinkin’ crazy thoughts…”

                “They aren’t _crazy_ Eli, they are _real_. Essex is a Mutant, more powerful and dangerous than you can understand. There is no fighting him; not yet. Getting out of town, away from you and everyone is the only t’ing I can do now.”

                “But…surely if you come with me to the station, we could get this whole nonsense sorted out! Remy, they say you’re dangerous. That you’re some kind of threat, just like this man you’re describing. I saw what this Dr. Essex did with his mind tricks…how can your little powers be on par with that?”

                Remy shrugged helplessly and ran his fingers through his wet hair anxiously. “I don’t know. But until I find a way to beat him, or find someone else who can…the safest place for all of you is far away from me.”

                He turned towards the closet and dug out a duffle bag full of his things that he had kept there. He opened the zipper and dug through the folded mounds of clothes and other affects until he came up with a large wad of cash, which he handed to Eli. “Here. I broke our arrangement. I know it ain’t much compensation for the damage I done but—“

                Eli pushed his hand down. “Put that away. Keep it; you may need it.”

                “Eli, I can’t—“

                “I ain’t asking!” the ginger haired man snapped, almost desperately. He hugged him again and Remy grit his teeth, trying to pull away, but the bigger man wouldn’t let him go.

                “Stay. Stay with me. We’ll get through this. I don’t know how, but we will!”

                With a snarl Gambit finally managed to wrench himself free of the man’s arms, turning away in frustration. “No! We won’t. I’m sorry, mon cher…dis is de only way.”

"But I love you." 

Remy set his jaw hard to keep his composure and shook his head faintly. " I know. Je regret, mon amour. Goodbye."

                He grabbed the bag and made for the balcony again, taking a leap off the edge and managing to roll into a an easy landing on the grass below. Eli shouted after him through the rain, but Remy didn’t dare turn back.

 

***

                Remy put himself up in a hotel under an alias just outside of the city. Seeing Eli had upset him more than he thought it would; almost as much as not seeing Jericho. He’d been laying low for days now, sinking further and further away from the city and his usual haunts, doing his best to cover his tracks and keep his head down. Luckily, his Charm made it easy for him to find those willing to keep secrets for him.

                Alone in the sparse hotel room, he treated himself to a liquid dinner of gin and tonic, until he had numbed himself to everything and drowned all other thoughts inside the nearly empty bottle. He passed out on the bed, leaving the TV on, blaring some crappy movie.

                Hours passed and nothing in the hotel room stirred. Remy remained dead to the world, not hearing the faint approach of footsteps outside his door, or the quiet picking of the hotel lock. It was only the loud click of the door opening that made him stir at all, lifting his heavy head from its fallen place at the foot of the bed.

                He blinked into the dark, hand going at once for his pockets. “Who’s dere…” he whispered.

                A hand grabbed his and flattened it to the bed, rolling him over quickly. Remy made to shout but another hand covered his mouth and a face leaned close to his, shushing him harshly.

                “Calm down, dammit! You try to blow my head off and I swear upon all de Saints dat I will make you regret it!” Henri hissed at him.

                Remy blinked at his brother in confusion for a moment, then managed to wrestle free of his grip, pushing him back from his perched position over him. “What de hell are you doing here?!” he hissed at him. “How did you find me!? It’s not safe--!”

                “Hush!” the older LeBeau son shushed him again with a glare. He looked nervously back towards the door then slowly reached for the bedside lamp, which he turned on before making a quick sweep of the room.

                Gathering himself, Gambit watched all this with tired, blood shot eyes, still trying to make sense of it. Only when Henri had made absolutely certain that were in fact alone did he turn back to his brother.

                “However much you consider yourself a ‘Master Thief’, mon frere, you leave more bread crumbs behind than you realize.” He answered at last.

                “Why are you here? You can’t be—“

                “Jean-Luc sent me to bring you home,” the older man cut off. “He’s making arrangements for you as we speak; we’re getting you out of the country. You leave on the first flight tomorrow for the house in Paris, from there he’s contacting the others.”

                Remy hesitated. “Won’t dat be obvious?”

                “Not when we put you through the right channels. Come on, get your t’ings, we’re leaving dis rat hole.” The other man urged, tossing Gambit his shoes and jacket. Remy stood, with some uncertainty, having to pause to collect himself twice.

                “I dunno,” he mumbled. “Essex will expect me to come home. He’ll be watching de house.”

                “And we’ll be watching for him,” the older man amended, putting a hand on Remy to steady him. He looked at his brother worriedly. “We know what we’re up against now. He won’t catch us off guard again, Remy. Have you lost faith in us so easily?”

                “Non,” he answered, giving the other man a grateful smile. “Merci, Henri. I should have listened to you from the beginning.”

                His brother nodded and helped him slip on his coat, since Remy seemed less than coordinated at the moment, “Let that be a lesson to you,” he smiled, “I always know what’s best.”

 

**

 

                They returned to the house under darkness, having switched cars twice along the way. They didn’t even pull up the long drive, but rather parked several miles from the house itself, and walked through the thick acres of trees and swamp until they reached the grounds.

                They came in the back door that lead in from the porch to the kitchen, just as they had done in their younger days when sneaking home from parties. The adrenaline and the night air had shaken off Remy’s drunkenness, but none of his tiredness. Entering his own house like a burglar didn’t sit well with him, but he couldn’t dwell on it now.

                They kept the lights out as they ascended the stair case, and Remy was taken to Henri’s room, rather than his own. Remy entered, expecting to see their father, but no one was present. There was a suitcase packed and sat on the floor by the bed, as well as two smaller bags and a set of passports and other identification documents.

                “Stay in here, get some rest. The house is being guarded.” Henri suggested. “Everything’s packed for you already.”

                “If the house is being guarded, how did we just slip in like dat?”

                His brother rolled his eyes, “You think our own people don’t know what to watch for?” he sighed. He nudged Remy towards the bed. “Come on, get some sleep. There’s nothing else for you to do tonight except worry and drink, both of which I’m sure you’ve done an excessive amount of for one evening.”

                “Where’s Jean-Luc?”

                “Waiting. We have some work to do; an easy job, shouldn’t take more than a few hours. We’ll be back to see you off.”

                Remy nodded, though his expression remained sullen. The ginger haired LeBeau hesitated, wishing he was better at this sort of thing. His little brother had always been much more emotional than himself. “Remy,” he offered, a bit more gently this time, “ I know you’ve been through de ringer, but you can relax now. De Guild protects its own. Dat’s why we’re here. How can you believe we’d abandon you?”

                “I’m not worried about De Guild. I’m worried about you and Daddy.” Remy answered, fixing his brother with a concerned look once more. “I’ve seen Essex toy with your minds before, normal people are an easy target. I can’t stay here, it’ll put you both in danger.”

                “It’s only for a few more hours. Please, _trust_ me.” He nudged the smaller man down into the bed and tossed a blanket over him. “Sleep. I’ll be back in no time and you’ll be on your way to Paris…think of all de trouble we can get into dere, eh?”

                Gambit smiled and nodded, sinking down against the pillows. “Don’t be long…d’accord?”

                “Of course. Now shut up and get some sleep. And don’t you dare throw up on my sheets!”

                “No promises.”

                “Bon nuit,”

                “Et tu, mon frere.”

 

***

               

                They eventually found Hank sitting in the Danger Room observation deck, watching Logan as he worked below. The blue furred Mutant’s ears twitched as he heard his other teammates enter and he turned in his seat.

                “He’s going to be a little longer,” he began, adjusting his glasses. “But I can at least attest that he’s being much more… _productive_ in channeling his frustrations.”

                Remy stepped closer to the console and peered down through the glass at Logan, who was attacking one simulated opponent with unbridled viciousness. Remy was surprised to see that the opponent in question was a new addition to the roster; one he hadn’t realized had been added. Mr. Sinister himself.

                Beast glanced at him out of the corner of his eye; “I added this simulation not long after you arrived, Remy. But, Charles, Scott and I discussed it and…we thought it best not to test it yet. Not until you felt ready.”

                Gambit said nothing, watching Logan intently. Neither Hank or Storm could read his expression behind the mask of passiveness he presented then and it made them both slightly nervous. “It’s not unusual for things like this to be added to the training roster,” Ororo interjected then. “The Danger Room was designed to test of physically but also mentally.”

                Remy had unpleasant recollection of Sinister’s own Simulation Room and his fingers flexed nervously, though he showed no other signs of discomfort. Logan was getting closer and closer to actually killing Essex, despite the fact that holographic villain was pelting him with his telekinetic powers, tossing the 300 lbs mutant around like he was a child’s toy.

                “Wish you would have said something earlier,” the Cajun said finally, tone even. “I could have helped you make it more accurate. Dis version you got here is based off an illusion form dat he takes to scare people. He’s not dat strong, or dat large. Actually, he’s quite a frail little man.”

                “Really?” Hank asked, quite intrigued. “I admit my sources were few and perhaps somewhat dated. Do you…would you be comfortable, helping me make the adjustments?”

                “Of course, mon ami. After all, you can’t win against an enemy if you underestimate dem.”

                He tapped a button on the console, signaling the exercise to pause to allow a second player to enter. Both Storm and Hank tensed. “Remy—“

                “You two relax. Leave dis to me and Wolverine.”

               

                Below, Logan was getting closer to actually landing a critical blow on Essex, who kept vanishing, or throwing Logan back every time he came close. He was a hard enemy to catch, and Logan hadn’t fought him more than once or twice before, and both times that had been with a team, lead by Scott.

                This was a completely different dynamic, but he wasn’t interested in tactics just then. Just blood. Just getting his claws into this man; tearing him apart, surrendering completely to the animal hatred inside him and letting it take vengeance on the man who had hurt his mate, the man who had kept them apart, the shadow that Remy would always be looking over his shoulder for.

                Essex had to die.

                It wasn’t possible now, but Logan had already set his mind to it. He would keep training, he would keep learning, getting stronger and stronger, until the time came when the chance presented itself in the real world.

                Chuck wouldn’t like it. He might even hate it. It might cost him his place on the team. These were all sacrifices he was willing to make. Essex was never going to get the chance to do this again, not to Remy, not to anyone. Not if Logan could help it.

                He charged then, seeing an opening, a vulnerable point in the telepath’s body armor and he rushed it, only to find that his claws slid through the simulation like fog, and the world stopped around them. Logan rolled into a crouch and grunted angrily. “What the fuck, Hank! Don’t stop now, I had ‘im!” he shouted towards the ceiling, unable to see Beast’s exact location in the observation deck.

                _“New combatant has entered program.”_

                Logan looked up in surprise to see Gambit enter the field, his bo staff resting across his shoulders, making his way towards him through the frozen atmosphere of a ruined warehouse. Remy gazed around at the playing field, shaking his head slightly.

                “Non, non, non, dis all wrong. Essex stays out of places like dis if he can help it, too many uncertainties. He always likes to keep himself on familiar ground, gives him more of an edge.” He looked at the paused hologram in front of him, staring him down even as Logan approached him. “Hmm…he’s too tall, first of all. Danger, can I make some changes to dis model?”

                _“Customization mode, activated.”_

“Rems, wait,” Logan panted, coming up beside him. “Darlin’, this is just a prototype. It’s not ready yet. You shouldn’t—“

                Remy put his hand on his arm lightly to quiet him. “Danger, I’ve got somethin’ very specific in mind. Ya can scan my mind, can’t ya? Gonna give ya a clear image of what I want…”

                “Remy,”

                Gambit squeezed Logan’s hand to quiet him and he felt a pinch as one of The Danger Room’s nural sensors probed into his mind. He would not have felt the intrusion at all except for the vague disruption of his energy field, which gave him a fleeting twinge.

                _“Scan complete. Customization loading…”_

                Logan watched silently as the computer began to rewrite Sinister’s image. No longer did Logan see the towering, armor covered super villain he had grown used to facing down, with his hulking form and wicked sneer.

                Instead, a smaller more average figure replaced him. The facial features remained much the same, but the man appeared to be wearing no more than a black suit and white gloves. He looked more like a villain you’d see in some mob flick than one that had faced down powerful mutants like Cyclops, Colossus and Angel.

                “This is how you remember him?” Logan asked quietly.

                “This is what he is. At least, what he is _now_. I’m sure other versions existed, even de one dat Beast designed was probably accurate at some time in history.” He stepped a little closer to the frozen image, staring him in the face. “But dis is de face I see in my nightmares, cher, I’m really honest. May not seem like much on de outside but…” he paused for a moment. “Danger,” he called again, “Increase opponent’s telekinetic ability to max. Add telepathic paralysis, distortion, and decrease physical strength by forty five percent.”

                The lines of Logan’s face darkened but he remained silent next to his lover, claws at the ready.

                “Change environment,” Remy added then, taking up a defensive stance then, staff at the ready. “Try number 67.”

                Their environment shivered and shuffled itself, then reformed into an environment Logan had never used before. It was a large church sanctuary, complete with wide rows of polished wood pews, high, white arched ceilings with gold and crystal chandlers, and paintings of angels, cherubs, saints and martyrs.

                Sinister now stood at the end of the aisle, at the altar, framed by the light coming in from the large stained glass window behind him.

                “This must be one of Kurts designs,” Logan muttered.

                “Suits me just fine, cher.” Remy muttered. “Get ready…Danger, reactivate simulation!”

                Logan didn’t know what to expect, but was ready for attack. The new Sinister blinked to life, taking a moment to leer at them before the gleam of the red diamond that adorned his forehead became visible.

                Remy was charging forward, firing off a volley of playing cards from his pocket (Logan swore the man had a pack sown into every pair of pants he owned, just in case) before darting to his right. The rippling explosions fell short of reaching Essex himself, who immediately created a telepathic shield around himself.

                But the smoke allowed Logan a chance to make his move, keeping low to the ground as he charged from the opposite side.

                Without moving from his position, Sinister picked up pews and sent them hurling at Wolverine and Remy at speeds that would surely crush them if they were caught. Logan hacked his way through any that came too close, screaming and snarling at the effort. Remy, who was far more agile, was able to avoid the collisions by grabbing hold of one of the banners hanging from the upper level balconies and swung safely out of range, letting more and more cards fly at Sinister so that he was forced to keep at least part of his focus on maintaining his protective bubble.

                Finally Logan managed to make his way past the clashing objects, making a beeline for Sinister’s bubble. He attacked it head on, knowing he wouldn’t break through immediately, but the forceful contact caused a ripple that made Sinister cringe. He’d seen this affect before with other telepaths, like Mastermind and Mesmero.

                Though the contact gave him an unpleasant shock, he kept pounding away at it, knowing it would weaken his opponents resources. But Sinister seemed to tire of this tactic quickly, anticipating Wolverine’s intentions.

                The shield suddenly surged and burst, sending Logan flying backwards, crashing and skidding across the ground. He snarled and made to get up, only to find he couldn’t move. Sinister began to approach him, the diamond gleaming brighter and brighter the more he focused his energies. Logan began to feel like he was slowly being crushed under and invisible weight.

                He grunted and moaned…maybe Remy had made this version a little _too_ intense.

                But just when he felt like something was going to rupture inside him, Remy was there, firing off another projectile that was close enough to Essex to break his focus, before swinging in and landing a masterful hit across the man’s torso with his staff, sending him rolling.

                “Never stay in one spot for more than a few seconds! Keep him divided, distracted, don’t let him have an inch!” Gambit yelled.

                “Easy for you to say!” Logan grunted, now free from the paralysis and charging again. He followed Remy’s lead, darting back and forth around the retreating telepath, darting close and then backing off just as suddenly, only to try to strike from a different side. With both men swinging at him almost constantly, Sinister couldn’t focus long enough to put up a defense, or lock onto their minds.

                Gambit was coming at him with everything he had, his staff, his fists, his feet. Sinister managed to block the blows, but he was weakening. Remy could see it. But he wasn’t beaten yet. The diamond glowed bright and both men felt a wave of vertigo hit them so powerfully it should have put them both on the floor.

                Remy tried to push through it, receiving a physical blow to the chest that knocked him back as Essex punched him hard. Forcing Wolverine away with another quick telekinetic burst, the black haired villain moved to catch Remy before he could recover.

                But Gambit was ready and made to bring his staff down on his head with his full strength. Sinister barely caught it before it crushed his skull, but Remy kept baring down, refusing to be pushed back or driven down, though the whole world was spiraling in front of his eyes. It would have been far worse if this was the real Sinister.

                “Logan now!”

                Wolverine took the opening without hesitation, screaming as he buried his claws in Sinister’s guts, watching as they ripped through the smaller man’s torso. Sinister shuddered for a moment, blinking at them as if in shock. Then he laughed.

                Logan tensed, baring his teeth. This was new.

                Remy suddenly withdrew his staff and whirled, swinging the adamantium pole like a baseball bat and managing to catch the real Sinister, who was now coming up behind them.

                The pole cracked with a sickening loud ring against the man’s skull and he went down, spitting blood and twitching. But Remy didn’t stop. He kicked the man down the stairs and hit him again, causing another crunch of bone and spurt of blood that stained the stairs a darker shade of red.

                “ _Target eliminated. Terminate simulation?”_

“Non!” Remy yelled, taking another swing at the downed man, breaking a good part of his face this time, which glitched faintly, reminding them that the gore was only projected and not real. “You keep dis bastard here…I ain’t finished!”

                He raised his staff again, but Logan caught it. “Cajun, stop!”

                “Let go of me!” Gambit barked, pushing the man back. “He’s _mine_ , Logan! I want to see him suffer!”

                The blue eyed man looked at him sternly, seriously, keeping his grip on Remy’s wrist though the man tried to wrench away again. “No, Rems. You don’t.”

                “Don’t tell me what I--!”

                “You _don’t._ ” his lover said again. “It’s not in you, darlin’. Killin’ was never in you. I’d be able to smell it if it was. You’re hurtin’, I know, but dis ain't the way to ease the pain.”

                He let the staff fall from his hand, clattering on the floor next to Sinister’s twitching body as he looked down at him one more time. His eyes fixed on Remy as the diamond turned from red to black and he went still for a moment before fading from existence as the program terminated.

                Gambit sagged to the floor, hitting his knees hard. Logan went down beside him and pulled him in close and fast. “I’m foolin’ myself. I just thought...if I could beat him, just once… but dis was too easy. He’d never let us get dat close, he’d turn you on me, or try to force his way into my mind again.”

                “Not gonna happen, darlin’. I promise.” The feral nuzzled him lovingly, “You’ll get your chance at this guy, I got no doubt. We’ll put an end to it, on your terms, darlin’. Whatever they are.” He kissed Remy’s forehead and held him tighter.

                Remy kept his face against the man’s shoulder, arms wrapped around him tight. He wanted to believe Logan; he wanted it more than anything. But he knew too well what happened to people who put themselves between Sinister and himself.

 

***

                Sunlight poured into the parlor of the house, making everything feel warm and drowsy. It was a hot summer day, and the windows were all open, letting in a refreshing breeze that kept the room comfortable and helped waft the scent of home cooking in from the kitchen.

                He was lying on the couch, reading a book, or rather pretending to. As he looked at the pages held above his head, he noted that all the words were backwards or out of order. The grand piano tinkled and clinked as Jean-Luc played, smoking his cigarettes and humming along to the tune of “As Time Goes By”. Henri was sitting across from him, drinking lemonade and looking off at nothing, just enjoying the quiet.

                Remy sat up slowly, looking around as if in a daze. The scene couldn’t have been more relaxing, but something felt…off.

                He blinked back at Henri, only to find that his brother’s image had been replaced with that Dr. Essex’s, who sat there smiling patiently at him as he swirled his drink. “You’re a sentimental creature, Remy. You haven’t been blessed with may quiet moments in your life, but the ones you have…my goodness. You value them more than gold.” He glanced around at the room with an air of sweet condescension. “I admit, this is a particularly lovely little gem. You really are fond of these humans, aren’t you?”

                “Get out.” Gambit warned, standing up and glaring down at him firmly. “You got no place here.”

                Essex didn’t seem disturbed by the threat, sipping his drink. “They’re not your family, you know. At best, they’re a couple of opportunists, who saw the potential gain in adopting a lonely boy with the power to influence others. I’d hardly call that an act of charity. More like a business investment.”

                Abruptly Essex found himself being thrown bodily from his seat as Remy charged him and threw him with surprising force. He tumbled across the floor, crashing into a table and overturning it’s contents, shattering glass and displacing books and other trinkets which rolled or thudded to the floor. The piano music played on, though it seemed to be winding down, like a music box.

                Essex seemed surprised to be so assaulted, but Gambit was already on him again, his fist glowing as he made to reach down and charge the objects around him. The black haired telepath only managed to leap free as the explosion rocked the room, shattering windows and knocking down portraits from walls and emptying shelves of their contents.

                “I know dis is a dream…knew you’d try somet’ing like dis again, sooner or later. Coward dat you are.”

                “It’s not cowardice to play to one’s strengths.” The other man replied, picking himself up and pushing Remy back as if by a gust of invisible wind. The room shifted and emptied, turning from golden and soft with light to ashen and grey with darkness.

                “You can’t keep running from me forever, Remy. I will find you wherever you go. My reach is greater than you might guess.”

                “Maybe,” Gambit answered. “But you can’t take control of me; not like before. If you could, you would have already.”

                Essex didn’t answer, just staring. “I should think that I wouldn’t have to resort to such tactics against a man I believe to be my peer. But you force my hand and again and again. What is this desire you have to be punished?”

                “Shut up!” Remy barked, tossing another pair of exploding cards at him, but they had no effect, turning to dust and smoke as soon as they got close to Essex this time.

                “This is your last chance, Remy. You’ve watched me tear down the lives of the people you care for. Do you think they won’t turn on you because of it? That they won’t hold you responsible for their misery and misfortunes?”

                “ _You_ did dis to dem, not me! I tried to stop you, I saved dem!”

                “But what if you couldn’t?”

                Remy tensed, the dark room slowly going from grey and muted to steadily filled with the same colored light as Gambit’s energy signature. Essex visibly cringed, suddenly seeming to shrink away from the aura of the room and Remy’s presence.

                “What…what is this? What are you doing? How are you doing this?” he demanded, feeling himself loose tangibility, all while feeling an increasing amount of discomfort that bordered on pain.

                “Get out of my head. You’ve had me cornered, I admit. But dat just makes me all de more dangerous…”

                He felt himself flung aside again and cried out, dissipating even further as Remy stalked towards him.

                The Cajun wasn’t sure what was happening, or how he had managed to regain control over his mind where Essex had so easily manipulated him before. But he wasn’t going to back off now, or question it. The pale man was flinching away from him, fading further and further from sight though he fought against it, trying again and again to regain mastery of Remy’s mindscape. Each time he did, Gambit felt a painful throb throughout his skull, not unlike the pain he’d experienced with Emma Frost. But he ignored it, pressing on.

                “Get outta my head, bastard! It’s not your playground no more! GET OUT!”

                With a surge of energy, Remy focused a blast that rushed Essex and caused him to vanish beneath a quake producing eruption that cracked the walls of the warped room that still surrounded them. Remy felt a sudden pressure lifted from his mind and he fell away as the dream scape around him melted into a void again.

                Essex was gone, forced out. Remy didn’t know exactly how or why, but he felt the warmth of his energy current burning a bit more brightly inside him as a result.

                It felt as if the storm had passed, leaving him in calm waters again. But it was far from over. Remy hadn’t avoided the hurricane of Essex’s rage…he’d only slipped into the eye of it.

 

               

                The sun was coming up when the sound of the bedroom door opening woke him from an otherwise dead sleep. He tensed, lifting his head and squinting into the dim light beyond the doorway that framed the new shape that appeared there.

                “Remy? Honey, you need to get up now.”

                Gambit blinked in surprise at the sound of Tante’s voice and he sat up a little further, eyes opening wider as he noticed a second shape in the doorway behind her. He recognized the man as one of the members of the Guild, a man called Jasper, who had been inducted a few years before Remy had joined.

                “Tante..? Didn’t t’ink you were coming to see me off,” he mumbled, wiping the sleep from his eyes, which were still blood shot and stinging slightly. He looked a little closer then at the woman who stood across from the bed, her arms wrapped around herself, like she was holding herself together with them.

                “Tante? What…what’s wrong?”

                He could feel it. Something awful had happened, something no one quite expected. There was an air of shock, fear and faint disbelief, coming not only from the woman in front of him, but those who were lingering outside the door.

                “Dere was an accident.”

                Frost flooded through his veins as he continued to stare at the woman, mouth suddenly dry. She took a breath and continued, and he could see her dark eyes beginning to mist; “It happened about an hour ago. Someone must have tipped their mark off…your Daddy’s been hurt. Dey rush him to de hospital.”

                Gambit stood quickly, moving to grab his clothes. “Which one Tante, did dey tell you? I’ll be ready to go in a moment…damn! Is it bad? Is Henri wit him? What happened, did de police--?”

                She caught his hand and stilled him. “Bebe,” she said quietly. “Henri…he…”

                Remy blinked at her for a moment, looking into her deep sad eyes as his stomach clenched tightly and his chest ached. He turned away, shaking her off as he drew in a sharp breath. “Non,” he muttered. _“Non_! Non, don’t you say it, Mattie Baptiste. Don’t you dare… _don’t you dare_!”

                “Dey got caught, bebe. Dey tried to run, to get out before dey were trapped, but someone had been expecting dem. They fell from the third story window. Your daddy got lucky, but Henri—“

                “NON!” The word tore itself from his throat, making it ache and burn and distorting his voice into a sort of guttural scream. “It’s not true! You lie to me, dis is all lies! It’s his doin’! It’s all another fuckin’ dream!”

                She grabbed him hard and shook him with both hands. “You know better,” she warned. “You got to hear me now, bebe. I know you don’t want it. None of us want it, but it’s the hard truth! No amount of wailing or cursin’ gonna change it!”

                The auburn haired man stared at her for a long moment, eyes wide and mouth open, trying to form words that wouldn’t come. The tears came fast and sudden as he looked into the woman’s face and saw there was no lie. His brother was dead.

                “Bebe,” she cooed, wiping the wet corners of his eyes with her thumbs and pulling him in closer to her as he gripped her arms and wept without a sound. “Dere’s a lot to be done now. De Thieves will look to you to act on your family’s behalf. Get ready now, we got to go see Marius and de rest of de Council.”

                Through the burning shock that filled him, Gambit tried to register these words. Of course, the Council would be looking for answers, signs of foul play, which already seemed obvious. Remy was currently the only capable acting member of the LeBeau clan. He would need to decide what course to take next.

                He could lead the Guild straight to Essex. He could bring the whole fury of their age old alliances down on the twisted Doctor’s head. No law would intervene—Essex would be handled with swift and deadly efficiency.

                The woman tried to lead him towards the door, but he hesitated.

                No. That was exactly what the man would expect him to do. To put more people between himself and the covetous mastermind. People who could be manipulated all too easily, people that could be cut down or gathered as collateral. He knew what he had to do, and this time he couldn't let anyone draw him back.

                “Honey,” Tante’s voice came to again, bringing him back to himself. “Go on and get dressed now. We’ll go down and see your Daddy first.”

                Gambit nodded and she leaned up and kissed his cheek before pulling herself away, slipping out of the door and closing it quietly behind her. He heard the muttered words that passed between her and the man outside, arguing about what needed to be done first.

                Minutes ticked by and Tante turned worriedly back to the door, opening it. “Remy-child, we got to—“

                The bed was empty and Gambit’s shoes, coat and bag were gone. She pushed her away into the room, but it was utterly abandoned. She cursed and rushed to the window, looking out across the lawn, but Remy LeBeau was already long gone.

 

***       


	14. Chapter 14

 

 

                The money ran out quickly. First he stayed with friends just outside the city. That lasted a few days. Until someone started lurking outside the apartment at night, watching him from the street. On his third night there, someone had tried to break into the building. Remy left the following morning without saying why.

                Strangers buried his brother. His father, confined to a wheel chair with a broken leg and hip, was alone at the graveside, without his son to console him in the loss of the other. The look on Jean-Luc’s face told the world that he felt like he had lost two sons, not one.

                Remy had been there. Just outside the gates. He watched the parish priest say the final blessing over Henri’s grave, then left without ever having been seen.

                After that, he tried hotels. They burned money quickly, until he found himself staying in seedier and seedier places. His assets with the Guild were frozen (for his protection and theirs) and he didn’t dare make a paper trail with his personal funds, knowing they were being watched by the MRD.

                All he had was the cash Eli had left him. Three weeks later, he was down to thirteen dollars and ten cents. He sold whatever he didn’t need; extra clothes, a few personal items, mostly gifts he’d been given by the family. It bought him a few cheap meals, but wouldn’t cover a room.

                It was easy enough for him to fall back on his trade; pinching wallets was second nature to him, and credit cards usually spent for a day or two if he was careful. But the flow was too erratic, the risk was becoming too high.

                He started running card games in Baton Rouge for a few days, changing his name and making sure to cover his eyes whenever he was in public. He won a big pot, over a thousand in one night. But it went sour after and he had to leave the money behind, barely escaping the cheaters who were not accustomed to being cheated themselves.

                He kept moving now, every day, every night. He never staid in the same area for more than a day, because every time he tried, _something_ would happen. A set of footsteps following his just a little too closely, a shadow under his door at night, the feeling of eyes watching him from across a street or a room.

                Essex was there, always, somehow in the periphery of his vision. He was in his dreams at night, making him relive his assault over and over, taunting him over his brother’s dead body, or visions of others he loved meeting the same fate or baiting him with promises of other torments. Remy stopped sleeping much.

                He started picking up “dates” in bars and outside clubs, using his Charm to help things along when the fish weren’t biting. The partner didn’t matter. Some nights it was a mutual, meaningless one-night stand. Other nights, it was a transaction, bartered and negotiated. He became a little more detached after each of these, growing quietly numb to the experience of allowing others to use him up, while he fed off their own twisted perceptions of him. It was a toxic cocktail that usually left him staggering afterwards. But it kept him alive.

                A month passed.

                He slept in two hour shifts, twice a day. He walked everywhere, in wind, rain and sun. He started living off gas station chips and soda, relishing a hot meal when it was offered, which wasn’t often. There were no more dates. There were only “transactions”. On good days.

                On bad days, he became a target. Abuse and cruelty came in a variety of colors; bigotry, either because of his mutation or his orientation. Animosity, because he was an outsider, a vagrant, a low-life who couldn’t be trusted. Other times, he didn’t gauge his marks well enough…men he thought were safe were actually monsters under the surface, eager to hurt him once they felt they had the upper hand.

                Some nights he found himself having to choose between taking the abuse or sleeping on the sidewalk. Some days it was easier to take a few punches, to feel a little pain, to let it go too far and be allowed to sleep it off in peace, than it was to stay up all night, waiting to be robbed or worse in an alley way.

 

                Eventually he found his way to Shreveport, edging further and further north. He knew he should have left the state all together, but he kept putting off the idea, as if he we waiting for the call that the storm had passed, that he could come home.

                There was a diner there, on the outskirts of town that was little known and little praised. With good reason; the food was marginal at best and the service was terrible. The cook, most of all, seemed to be the source of discourse. He was a tall, broad man with olive skin and ebony black hair, with hard features. He had a thick black mustache that lined his grim line of a mouth, and his eyes were dark and hard looking, like onyx marbles, sunk in their sockets.

                He was a war veteran, from what Remy had gleaned from a few conversations with the waitresses and other counter flies, as he sat nursing a cup of burnt coffee for more than an hour one day.

                The man was a fairly awful cook; the only thing decent he ever served was fried eggs and grits. The rest was slop at best. His particularly gritty personality did not improve his odds either; he could be heard constantly swearing and cursing from the kitchen whenever someone complained or sent back food. Several times, since his arrival that week, Remy had watched the man come bursting out of his kitchen door, black ponytail flying, and come face to face with a customer, threatening to put his rather large fist through their face if they refused to pay their tab.

                Not surprisingly, Remy didn’t see many return customers to the diner. Except himself. In fact, he might have been the first. The staff certainly seemed surprised to find him there each day.

                He had been in Shreveport five days. He had thirty dollars left over from his last “job” (a trucker, just outside of town. The man was disgusting and had grunted and squealed like a pig the entire time Remy had been pressed up against the wall of diner bathroom. But he had cash, and Remy knew he could outrun him if he needed to.)

                He had to ration the money to keep himself fed, or at least caffeinated. He’d lost almost twenty pounds, and had a lean hungry look about him that made others look away nervously. His hair was getting shaggy, and he still managed to shave but had almost constant stubble since razors were harder to come by. It was very obvious that he had slept in his clothes and his trench coat was looking more and more frayed at the edges.

                It was nearing closing time, and he looked up from the used newspaper he had been reading to realize he, and one other man, who had been eyeing him from the far corner booth of the restaurant for the last hour, were the only patrons left in the dingy little greasy spoon. All but one of the waitresses had gone home, leaving only the sagging, middle aged divorcee and the cook for company.

                Remy was on his second cup of coffee and still picking at the crumbs from his plate of eggs and toast. It did little to fill him, but it was something. Better than vending machine fare or someone’s left overs at any rate. Down the aisle, he felt the other man’s stare slowly boring into him, and he could feel the low curdling sensation of growing lust and anxiety starting to roll off him. Remy lifted the collar of his coat and huddled deeper into it, trying to hide his face. The man was making him nervous…he didn’t dare open his empathy any more. He was afraid to know what he was thinking.

               

                He heard the kitchen door swing open and heard the heavy footstep of the cook as he stepped out behind the counter, looking at Remy with a cool, measured gaze. “Hey, bum. We both know that coffee tastes like shit. Why don’t you wrap it up for the night, let decent people go home, hmm?”

                Remy’s tired eyes, shielded behind tinted glasses slid towards the clock on the wall above the stained and peeling wallpaper. “I still got twenty minutes,” he offered with a faint, but endearing smile. “Den I go.”

                The man frowned further. “No, you go _now_. Some of us who got jobs would like to knock off early.”

                Remy huddled a little further into his coat. “Please,” he muttered. It was getting cold, and it rained more often than not. He had been living out of the back of a stolen car with a broken window. He couldn’t bear the thought of spending another damp, chilled night on the lumpy back seat, jumping at every sound he heard. He just couldn’t. “Just a few more minutes.”

                The waitress seemed to brace herself for the eruption she expected to come from the cook. Remy did too, gripping the plain white coffee cup a little too tightly. The dark haired man studied him for a second longer, then grunted and turned his back to him, busying himself with fixing up the back counter and making a note of supplies; something Remy had never seen him do.

                In his surprise, he did not notice the man from the far booth approach him until he leaned in between him and the other empty stool next to him. “You, uh…looking for someplace to go tonight, sweetheart?” the greasy man asked, his voice slightly jittery as if he was riding out a caffeine buzz.

                “Cause ya know, I got a truck and I know a little place that’s open all night if ya want something to wash down the taste of that coffee.”

                “Non, merci,” Remy mumbled, lifting the mug to his lips again. The coffee was cold now and tasted like sludge. He barely noticed however, as the man lifted a finger and pulled down the edge of his collar, tucking his hair behind his ear lightly.

                “Oh come on, pal…don’t be like that. I’m only tryin’ to help.”

                Remy felt it, a brief rush of the man’s emotions, rippling over him like an sudden gust of wind. The man was nervous alright, and not because he was intimidated by Remy. Because he was trying to calculate his risks…he had plans for Remy tonight. The Cajun caught flashes of his desire. He had pills in his pocket, rope and a gun in his car. The man was hungry for sex, but hungrier for the struggle he anticipated during and after…

                Remy turned and slapped his hand away, glaring at him now with hard eyes that were blazing ruby red within their black pools. “Don’t touch me you pervert,” he snarled.

                The man’s eyes widened and he backed away nervously, raising his hands. “Hey, hey! Easy..I didn’t know…I didn’t know you were one of _those_ people.”

                Remy stood, grabbing his silverware off the table and letting it collect a charge in his hand as he glared the predator down. “And what kind of ‘people’ is dat, mon ami?” he asked with a nasty grin, showing the man his glowing weapons. “I suggest you run. Or I’m gonna skewer you and den watch you go BANG afterwards!”

                “Holy shit man! You’re crazy!” The man stumbled and rushed for the door as Remy flung the glowing cutlery after him, missing him by inches as it embedded itself into the door frame before exploding with a small bang that singed the wall around it. The other man was tripping down the stairs, scrambling out into the dark parking lot. Remy followed after him, leaning out the door and calling; “Aw where you goin’ cher?! Thought you was after a good time! You ever t’ink about doin’ dat shit again, and I’ll _show_ you what a good time wit a Mutant is!”

                He stepped back inside and leaned against the back of the nearest booth, finding himself trembling after the sudden rush. He glanced back inside, and saw the old waitress look at him for a moment in terror before darting back through the kitchen door. The cook, however, staid exactly where he was, watching Remy with those hard black eyes.

                “Go on,” Remy muttered. “Call de cops. Don’t make no difference to me no more…”

                The darker man moved from around the counter, making his way over to the door, which he locked and then flipped the sign that hung on the window to “closed” before even looking at LeBeau.

                “You either got a hair trigger, or you saw something about that fucker you didn’t like.” He said then. His voice was still hard edged, rough and to the point, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Or at least, it didn’t seem to pack the same brutal punch as it did when he was dealing with surly customers.

                Remy eyed him cautiously. “What’s it to you, homme? You’re dining room is empty now, ain’t it?”

                “Seems that way.”

                “Right then. Guess I’ll see myself out…”

                He reached for the door, resigning himself to another night in the damp and cold but the other man held the door handle and barred his exit.

                “Come on out back.” He said.

                Remy blinked at him, not sure he understood. The mustached man just nodded however and moved back towards the kitchen door, ushering Remy to follow. The Cajun hesitated, unsure if he could trust the situation. Nothing about the cook particularly made him want to linger, but the alternative…

                Shoving his hands in his pockets, fingering their scant belongings, (loose change, a deck of cards, cough drops, and gum) and followed the man beyond the door. The kitchen, which was small, cluttered and unsurprisingly dirty opened up before him. But cook was headed elsewhere, moving down the narrow row between the grill, and prep stations, he lead the Cajun to the back door. Again, Remy hesitated at the threshold, watching the man walk out into the dark lot behind, unsure of what to do.

                Here the dark haired man glanced back at him over his thick shoulders, slipping his jacket on over his food stained t-shirt. “Well, come on swamp rat.”

                Remy frowned. “Don’t call me dat.”

                “Don’t be one then.”

                “And what should I call you den, eh?” LeBeau quipped, still following behind as they traveled a short distance across the overgrown lot to what looked like a rusty camper that was parked at the edge of it. “M’sieur Pornstache’?” he quipped, allowing himself a small smirk.

                The man actually chuckled, though the sound was so deep and quiet it was hard to recognize.

                “You can call me Greycrow.” He added then, coming to the door of the camper and producing a key from his pocket. Remy noted that the weeds and the grass had grown up around the old structure, as though had been sitting there for months, maybe years. He opened the door, creating a rectangle of yellow light that spilled over them and raced across the dark ground and turned to motion Remy inside. But Gambit held his ground, just staring into the threshold suspiciously.

                “What the hell’s the matter with you? You scared of doors or something?” Greycrow asked, now sounding both irritated and vaguely astonished at the Cajun’s consistent paranoia.

                “Don’t go anywhere wit just anyone, homme. What’s inside dat so important you gotta show me now, while we all alone in de dark here?”

                The mustached man sighed and pulled a cigarette from his pocket, placing it between his lips and tiredly massaging his temples. “Look, we both know you that if you had anywhere else to be, you’d already been there, kid. I’m trying to help you out. One Mutie to another.”

                Remy blinked, looking at the older man with a new expression. This was the last thing he expected.

                “Will ya come in already? Yer lettin’ all the damn heat out.”

                He stepped up into the camper and Remy finally followed. There was not much to the space at all, a booth and small table wedged in between the worn down seats directly in front of him, a counter top, some small overhead cabinets, mini fridge and microwave made up the rest of the tiny kitchen, allowing a small nook where there was a recliner and a small desk, cluttered with a lap top and several boxes of machine parts that Remy didn’t recognize. The other side of the camper consisted of a very short walk way that was wedged between a storage closet and a tiny bathroom stall, which ended with a curtain was partially obscuring a bed that was rumpled and unmade. The place smelled like stale cigarettes, beer and fried food and gun smoke. Remy noticed two large guns propped against the wall by the door. Military grade riffles. He tensed again.

                Greycrow moved past him, turning on the little television that was perched on the countertop and reached into the mini fridge, producing two beer bottles.

                “Have a seat, swamp rat.”

                “LeBeau,” Remy corrected, somewhat begrudgingly. “It’s LeBeau.”

                The other man nodded and handed him the drink, nudging him over to the booth and making him sit down. Remy did so only after his host though, keeping himself perched nervously at the edge of the seat, ready to bolt for the door if need be.

                “Are you running from, or to?”

                Remy hesitated. “Why does it matter?”

                “It doesn’t. I’m just making conversation. It’s polite. Or weren’t you taught that?” the man teased. He seemed to like Remy. Or at least he seemed to like him more than he seemed to like most other people that came into his path on a daily basis.

                “Fuck off.” He grumbled, but there was a little smile in the corner of his mouth that softened the words.

                Greycrow smiled. Remy was kind of surprised that he could. It changed the way his whole face looked when he did. The little lines and creases around his eyes deepened, but in an endearing way. He looked more human somehow.

                “What can you do? Besides blow up knives and forks?”

                Remy sat staring between his beer and the man asking the questions. “None of your damn business.”

                Another smile, followed by a long drink from the green bottle in his hand. “Good answer.” He sat forward a bit then, looking at the younger man more closely. “Your eyes give you away; but these days…not so hard to play a thing like that off as a costume or whatever. Who the hell knows with some of these freaky ass kids I’ve seen. But apart from that, I never would have pegged you for one of us. Not until your little show back there. And that’s a damn good thing.”

                “Why?”

                Greycrow scoffed. “Mutants are about as low on the food chain as you can get right now. Sure I don’t need to tell you that; looking the way you do. Sure ya got a long sob story, probably got kicked outta yer house by your daddy cause you got powers, right?”

                Gambit didn’t answer.

                “Point being, we can’t trust no body. Nobody but our own.”

                “Yeah well…other Mutants ain’t always so kind either, mon ami.” The auburn man said then after a moment. “In fact…sometimes I think I see why it is everyone hates us so much. We’re a scary bunch, all t’ings considered.”

                The mustached man nodded thoughtfully, taking another drag of his cigarette and putting it out in the ashtray. “Yeah. Suppose yer right there.”

                He stood up again and started digging through the mini fridge and the cabinets and produced a handful of sandwich fixings. Remy’s stomach rumbled quietly and he tried not look on longingly at the food like a starving dog.

                “’S’okay, I got plenty. It all comes from the restaurant.”

                Gambit raised an eyebrow. “Ain’t dat stealing?”

                The cook turned and waved the sandwich in his face. “I dunno. You hungry?”

                Remy reached out and snatched it before he could pull it back and bit into it ravenously. Greycrow smirked and fixed himself one as well before returning to his seat, dragging a bag of chips and a jar of pickles.

                Gambit ate without reserve and the other man watched him silently, drinking his beer and listening to the tv drone in the background, watching the younger mutant with a long measured look. Little by little, Remy reached out with his empathy, trying to gage the man in front of him without giving too much away up front.

                Perhaps not surprisingly, Greycrow was pretty much exactly what he seemed on the surface. There was no real façade, though Remy could sense that the man had a unique, somewhat disturbed sort of darkness about him. But it seemed far away and tucked aside, nothing close to the surface. He was lonely; that much Remy could sense. He’d been alone a long time, longer than he should have.

                There was stress, tension…

                Pushing a little further, Remy sensed a sort of decay or chaos within his mind; not anxiety so much as paranoia and fear…resentment…guilt and pain.

                Remy pulled back, not wanting to probe further, knowing it would probably tip him off. Already the man named Greycrow was giving him a stranger look, as if sensing he had been up to something.

                “What are you?”

                Remy swallowed the last bite of his pickle and shrugged. “Mutie. Like you said.”

                “Don’t play dumb,” the man said, and though his tone didn’t change from the even rumble it already possessed, Remy could sense a new sort of tension behind it. “Cards on the table, LeBeau.”

                Remy had a choice to make. He could run now, flee the first kind person he’d come across in weeks, and take his chances on the road again. He could use his Charm, waft his host into a nice sense of contentment and deal with maintaining it…or he could tell the truth.

                “I don’t know what dey call it; Empath is a term I heard once. Means I can connect wit other people’s feelings, share deir experiences, even influence deir moods.”

                “Sounds gay.”

                Remy snorted and rolled his eyes, “Wow, homme. You got some eloquence, I’ll tell you dat much.”

                “So…you blow things up, and make people feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Odd combination. What about the eyes? You shoot lazors or something?”

                “Non…just de good looks I was born wit, mon ami.” He sat back, eyeing the other man. “I show you my deck, you show me yours. What is it you do?”

                The man paused for a moment thoughtfully, then got up and made his way past Remy (who tensed when he passed the riffles) and came to stand by the little desk at the opposite end of the camper. He rolled up his sleeves and stretched his hand over the box of seemingly useless parts. In seconds Remy saw the pieces suddenly jolt to life, flying from the box as if drawn my a magnet and attaching themselves to the man’s skin. They crept up his arm, steadily forming a pattern that started to look like armor, until it reached his shoulder, where it came to a stop.

                Each piece fit perfectly against the other, almost seamlessly, and all without any interference by Greycrow himself. The man turned, flexing his hand, watching as his fingertips began to glow faintly. “I can manipulate tech and machinery with my body. Any kind, any make. I break it down and reform it until it’s like a living part of me.”

                He pointed the glowing fingers at Remy for a moment, letting the light gather and Gambit sat, ready to duck and run, until the man turned away and fired off a quick burst of light out the open window instead It struck a stumpy tree a few yards off and burned a hole into it’s bark.

                “Merde!”

                Greycrow smiled slowly. “Guess that means I don’t gotta explain how I’m a dangerous guy to mess with then, right?”

                Remy nodded slowly.

                “Good.”

                He allowed the tech to slowly drop from his skin, leaving faint little dimples and punctures across the exposed tan flesh before they became inert and useless again within the box.

                “What happens now?” Remy asked.

                The veteran furrowed his dark brows, shrugging. “Nothing. You keep being you, I keep being me. And maybe in the meantime…we’ll watch each other’s backs. If that suits you. If not, yer welcomed to fuck off like the rest of ‘em. No hard feelings.”

                Gambit took a moment to absorb this and then added, cautiously; “You need someone to watch your back, mon ami?”

                Greycrow glared at him and Remy recognized the familiar angry scowl that he often gave those who deigned to displease him. “Did I fucking _say_ I needed that?”

                Remy waved his hand, “Non, desole. Powers like yours, make any man go running for cover. I only meant…well, deir must be a reason you chose me.”

                “You’ve eaten my food for five days straight. Ya never pissed or complained about any of it. You mind your own business and you don’t harass my girls or my customers. You’re not a pain in my ass. That’s good enough for me.”

                Remy nodded, “Thank you for the food. It’s getting late, suppose I should—“

                “You like sleeping outside like a dog?”

                Remy hesitated at the door and frowned. “Dat bluntness ain’t gonna win you any friends, homme. Try a bit of finesse, a bit of subtly occasionally. Would do you wonders.”

                The black haired man was only half paying attention, hurriedly typing on the laptop while picking parts out of the box and examining them with a sharp eye. “Providin’ ya ain’t got lice or nothing crawling on you, you can have the bed tonight. I got work, won’t be using it anyhow.”

                It felt too good to be true and the Cajun licked his lips lightly, not knowing if he dared to believe his luck was changing.

                “I dunno…”

                “Bullshit. Go lay down, get some sleep, or whatever it is you gotta do.”

                “And…I suppose you gonna come join me later, dat right?” he muttered. “You know…wantin some gratitude for taking a poor soul like me in? Dat your game?”

                Greycrow looked up, finally giving him his full attention again. “You calling me some kind of fuckin’ rapist?”

                “Are you?”

                They stared at each other a moment, then the older man shook his head and sat back down. “Shit, son. You got more issues than I thought.”

                He said nothing further to Remy and after ten long minutes, the Cajun finally shuffled himself to the back of the camper, taking off his coat and hanging it by the bathroom door before flopping down on the edge of the bed. For more than an hour he sat there in the dark, just staring at the stranger who had taken him in; waiting for the other shoe to drop.

                But after a time it became quite clear that his host had lost all interest in him. In fact, he seemed to have almost forgotten Remy was there in the first place. Eventually sleep won over, and Remy allowed himself to lie down and pull a blanket over himself. His eyes burned and ached, too tired to hold focus anymore. He blinked once, twice…then he was under.

 

***


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who might be thinking that John Greycrow is a bit OOC... I can explain really, but it would take much longer than necessary. Basically I was first introduced to John's character through one of his subsequent clones that Nightcrawler dealt with. By this point, we obviously had a much kinder, gentler, repentent John than the original, but that one stuck with me. And I got attached and...there are reasons why this is listed as an AU, ya know.

 

**

 

                He’d been in Shreveport almost three weeks now. They days bled together, one into the other and not much changed, except that the weather grew warmer and his homesickness became a sort of constant dull numbness in his chest.

                He spent his nights prowling the town; staking out bars and clubs. Some days he played cards, a game which he rarely lost. His winning streak was so good in fact, that more often than not, he would have to fight off the sore loser’s wrath afterwards. Somedays the winning hand cost him a black eye or two. But card games, whatever their novelty and his fondness of them, were not his specialty.

                His Charm was always on, seeming to grow in its abilities to ensnare and enrapture. He never left a bar or club alone, and it wasn’t entirely unusual to take more than one partner in a night. He’d had as many as three in one evening. It was a rush; a dangerous one. His unchecked powers meant that his encounters were intense, fierce and usually draining for both parties. But Gambit craved the high of it, as much as he craved the exhaustion that came after. Sex was a drug to him now, more than it had ever been, and every other night he seemed dangerously close to an overdose. He binged off their desires, their feelings, their lives…it made him think less about his own.

                And when it was over; used up, bruised and sometimes beaten, he went back to the diner and the camper parked out back. Back to the stink of cigarettes and greasy food, to the click-clack of the laptop and the strange metallic whirring’s and crunches of his machines, to the croon of old rock and roll and bluegrass on the radio. Back to John Greycrow and his hard scowl and his deep black eyes.

                He never asked Gambit about where he’d been or why, though Remy was sure he knew what he was up to. Gambit thanked him for that silently. Once he started to earn enough money, he began to leave some for his new “roommate” on the counter. The cook rebuffed his attempts a first, but Remy was persistent enough that the man finally gave up.

                The extra cash helped put more food on the table and liquor as well. Some nights, when Remy had come home early from the bars and the diner had closed up early, the Cajun would stay up and teach John how to make new meals; things that might sell well in the restaurant. Greycrow, hard stubborn man he was, resisted initially, insisting Cajun’s couldn’t eat much of anything that wasn’t smothered in cayenne pepper and tabasco. He hated or ignored most everything Remy made, except one dish.

                Remy bought pecans from a local bakery and made pecan pie; the same way Tante always made it for holidays. John didn’t say anything at first, except that it wasn’t “awful.” But the next night when Remy returned home, he found that the entire pie had been polished off. He was kind enough not to rub it in the Comanche’s face.

 

                One morning, he woke next to his most recent “client” in the musty bed of the local hotel. The television was still on, clothes were all over the floor. Remy was stiff and bruised and feeling particularly…soiled. The man he’d taken to bed, a professional boxer, had been particularly enthusiastic about acting out some of his fantasies on Gambit, most of which had been rather forceful and humiliating in nature.

                The man was snoring next to him, lying sprawled on his back, completely uncovered by the sheets. Gambit cringed at the sight of him and quickly shuffled out of bed and made his way into the bathroom. He had the usual bruises and scratches, this time he had rope burns on his wrists and ankles to boot, a welt on his cheek bone and bruised knuckles. His scalp still hurt from having his hair pulled so much. He wasn’t sure how much of what they had done was sex and how much was just…beating the hell out of each other. Either way, he felt worse for the experience.

                He knew what his brother would say if he could see him now. _“Remy, you are better than dis.”_

                He steadied himself against the sink and splashed cold water across his sore face and neck, sighing in relief. “No I’m not,” he answered the ghost in his head. “I was never better than dis. I was tossed in de gutter the moment I was born…I was always bound to return dere. I was never like you, no matter how much I wanted to be.” He bit back the burn of tears in his throat. He never thought about Henri. He never let himself think about him. Because the moment he did, it was too much.

                “I miss you.” He whimpered, pushing the sob down and breathing deep as he collected himself. Now was not the time.

                He glanced back at the door, back out into the ruined motel room. It was still dark outside, and the red numbers on the clock indicated that it wasn’t yet six am. He’d been gone for almost twelve hours, and he had a little less than three hundred dollars and a lot of aches and pains to show for it. He recalled distantly the nights when an hour of his time cost his clients that much; and that wasn’t counting the extras. The champagne days were over.             

                He turned and walked hastily out of the bathroom, gathering his clothes and dressing hastily, despite the aches in his muscles. The man on the bed continued to snore on, dead to the world. Remy grabbed the man’s wallet from the bedside table and took the money inside and a few more bills for good measure, glancing back at the man on the bed to make sure he wasn’t awake. Remy had a nagging feeling that the man was going to wake up feeling somewhat embarrassed and probably a little ashamed of himself. Feelings, he gathered, would probably be expressed as violently as the rest of his emotional range.

                He made his way across the dark, still parking lot, darting under pools of milky lamp light as he made for the sidewalk and the streets beyond. The diner and Greycrow’s camper were only three miles away, but it would talk him a bit to make it on foot.

                It was already getting hot, though the sun wasn’t quite up yet. In an hour or so his shirt and jacket would feel too heavy and too confining for the humidity. Sweet Louisiana heat. Remy wanted it to boil off the stains on his skin, sweat out his demons and this poison in his veins and cleanse him somehow.

                But there was one small bright spot on his otherwise bleak existence. One connection he’d managed to make that wasn’t completely shallow or damaging.

                John Greycrow.

                Remy paused on the street corner thoughtfully, waiting for the crosswalk lights to change, breathing in the thick morning air and watch the headlights of passing cars fade in and out of focus as they passed. John would just be waking up about now, he realized, getting ready to shower and shave and go open the diner for the breakfast rush.

                He decided to surprise him.

 

                Peaches were in season and they were huge and ripe and the smell alone made Remy’s mouth water. He bought a small crate from the market and brought them home, wondering if he could talk Greycrow into adding peach cobbler to the menu.

                He came around the back of the parking lot; the morning sunlight on his back, just creeping over the other buildings in the rundown area of town and made for the camper door. “Johnnie!” he called, sounding more enthusiastic than was really warranted and pulled open the camper door with a pop, jogging up the short steps until he stood inside. “Hey! You up? I got something! Hey, John—“

                Remy turned, noticing that he didn’t hear the shower running and made for the little bedroom at the back of the camper, only to find himself suddenly looking down the barrel of a gun. A gun which seemed to have been grafted to Greycrow’s fist.

                “Shut up!” the black haired man barked, grabbing Remy by the collar and yanking him forward, tossing him onto the bed and pulling the curtain closed after them. Gambit laid there for a moment, blinking in shock, and when he went to speak, Greycrow pressed a hand over his mouth and shoved him down in the blankets, leaning close.

                “Shhh! You want to bring ‘em down on us?!”

                Gambit blinked, managing to wrestle the man’s thick palm away from his face. “ _Who?_ ” he muttered harshly.

                John shushed him again and sat up rigidly, listening. Remy noticed that he was sweating heavily, and that all his muscles seemed excruciatingly tense, and his eyes were wider and frightened. An expression he’d never seen on the severe man’s face.

                “I thought I heard ‘em, ya know, a while ago….just outside, hiding in the grass. Talking to themselves…planning their move. They think I don’t know…but I heard them. I know they’re watching us.”

                For a moment Gambit said nothing, trying to make sense of the troubling display in front of him. Very slowly, he reached out a hand and touched John’s elbow lightly. He felt a rush of fear from the man that was intense enough to steal his breath. He sensed the turmoil of his mind; his normally cool logic had dissolved into a chaotic whirlpool of fear, anger and distress.

                Remy got an imprint then; seeing a younger Greycrow, standing in the chaos of an ambush attack that had left most of his platoon dead or severely injured. John had reacted to the chaos with zealous rage that bordered on madness…his powers had been exposed and both friend and foe alike seemed utterly horrified by the realization of what he was. His own people started to attack him; so John did the only thing he could do. He fought back. So much blood on his hands…they had looked at him with such horror. The guilt seared him deep…but not deep enough perhaps.

                _“We warned you what would happen…it’s not my fault you didn’t listen.”_

                Greycrow shook him away and Remy broke the link, trying to recollect himself. “What…what the fuck did you just do?!” he snapped at him, eyes still too wide and breath coming too quickly.

                “John…Johnnie it’s okay.”

                “Fuck off!”

                “John, look at me,” Remy sat up on the bed and pulled Greycrow away from the curtain, ignoring how heavily armed he was and that he seemed quite capable of blowing his head off at any given moment. “It’s over now. You’re here, with me in Shreveport. Remember? What happened…it was years ago, Johnnie. It’s over.”

                Greycrow stared at him, breathing a little too heavily, his eyes searching Remy’s suspicious and wild. Remy felt the barrel of his gun press between his ribs again as the man looked at him more closely. “Did you look in my head?”

                “Non…I can’t do dat, cher, remember?” the Cajun asked with a smile, continuing to pluck Greycrow closer, smoothing his hand along his temple and moving back through his long black hair, which was not in its usual ponytail. “Bad t’ings happen in war, Johnnie. I know you feel bad…you feel real bad. But it can’t hurt you no more.”

                “I don’t ‘feel bad’,” John hissed at him, shaking him off and catching his hand, squeezing a little too tightly and making Gambit wince. “They got what they fuckin’ deserved. We were trying to help them and they just…they fuckin’…”

                Remy just nodded in understanding. “But it’s not happening now, cher. Listen, okay? Just breathe and listen…what do you hear?”

                “Your stupid mouth running, as usual.”

                The Cajun smiled again and managed to seat the man on the bed, guiding the hand that was clenched around his to his chest, pressing it over his heart. “Listen. Count my heartbeats. It’ll calm you down.”

                He expected another protest, but instead Greycrow just scowled and stared down at his hand, feeling Remy’s pulse under his palm. Little by little the fluttering rhythm began to draw him out of his mental fog, bringing him back to the moment and his reality. There were no enemies about to ambush and blow them to bits, there was no war, no high command counting on him and his troops unique abilities to bring them valuable information.

                There was only Remy and himself, in run-down camper that was already growing vaguely stifling in the morning heat. And something new…the smell of ripe peaches.

                The black haired man glanced around, looking for the source of the smell and stared at the crate that had been left on the edge of the counter. “What the fuck is that?” he asked quietly.

                Remy exhaled quietly. John was back to himself now. For the moment, the danger had passed. “It was a surprise, for you. Thought I could show you how to make cobbler…it would sell real well, you could use it as de special of de day.”

                They sat there together, unsure what to say next. Slowly, Greycrow stood up and began to shed himself of his armor. He discarded the lot into a box, which he hurriedly stuffed into the storage closet, throwing a heap of towels on top of it before slamming the door and kicking it for good measure. Gambit remained silent, waiting for the other to speak.

                Greycrow didn’t however. He paced the narrow path between them for a moment, then turned and darted out the door. Remy watched him trot across the lot into the diner without glancing back.

 

***

 

                John didn’t come back before the dinner rush that night, and Remy didn’t venture into the diner either. He figured Greycrow needed some space, and having the Cajun sitting at the counter staring at him through the kitchen window would most likely just piss him off.

                Gambit couldn’t say he wasn’t shaken by what he had seen in Greycrow’s mind; the imprints were disturbing, and he was still feeling some of the residual affects of the man’s lingering PTSD long after he had disappeared. He understood better now the man’s deep paranoia and wondered if John hadn’t gone AWOL after the incident. It would explain a lot of things.

                But whatever the Comanche man had done in his past didn’t change how Remy saw him now. And Remy was really in no position to be picky about his friends these days.

                Having nothing else to do, and not quite recovered from his last romp, the Cajun spent the day cleaning the tiny, dingy camper, and when he’d finished that task, he set to work with the peaches. There was enough to make a cobbler, a pie and still have several left for just eating.

                Finally, the late night and the stress of his encounter with Greycrow caught up with him, and he curled up on the bed at the back of the camper and wrapped himself in the sheets, drifting off to the sound of the tv droning across the room. The white noise made it easy to relax, and it helped distract his mind enough that he didn’t think about Essex…at least not immediately.

                He felt like had just dropped off when suddenly the bed dipped and there was a body behind his. Remy sucked in a startled breath and grabbed at the hands that came around him, but a familiar voice was in his ear, “Hush up, it’s just me idiot.”

                Remy blinked over his shoulder as the dark haired man pulled him close and settled down into the bed with him, pressing his face into Gambit’s neck under the finge of his shaggy hair. “John…?” Remy croaked, voice thick and broken with sleep.

                The broader man just gave him a squeeze and tugged the blanket over them both. “Shut up, go back to sleep.”

                The Cajun nodded faintly and let his head hit the pillow again, surrendering to the idea of being John’s security blanket for the evening. If that was what the other man needed, then so be. Remy didn’t mind.

                A few more days past, and Greycrow became quieter, angrier. He outright ignored any attempts Gambit made to talk about his episode, and if Remy persisted too much, he made it known quickly that he had a very short temper.

                Remy began to wonder if he hadn’t burned the only bridge he had left, and started staying out later as a result, avoiding Greycrow all together. There seemed to be no use in sticking around the trailer, and being alone with his thoughts just made Remy realize how alone in the world he felt. Alone and hunted.

The only remedy, it seemed, was to go out and look for trouble, before it came looking for him.

 

**

 

                He’d come back later than usual that night.

                The Comanche man wasn’t in his usual spot. He was sitting outside in a beat up lawn chair, listening to the radio and fiddling with something that looked like a cybernetic glove, when he heard the shuffle of Remy’s footsteps from across the back lot of the diner.

                “Long night, Cajun?” the dark haired man called, without really looking up. He paused a moment, taking a drink from his beer and added thoughtfully, “Wasn’t sure you were coming back. They way you’ve been scurrying off before dawn and come crawling in here at all hours like a mangy tomcat in heat, I figured maybe ya found yourself a better prospect elsewhere.”

                He expected a quick retort from the other man, or some snide insult in French that he only half understood. But Remy didn’t answer, and when he finally drew close enough that he could see, it made him sit up, eyes wide.

                LeBeau looked like he had been three rounds with someone. He had a black eye and a wide gash on his cheek bone, the knee of his jeans was completely torn out and his knees were bloody and scraped, his knuckles likewise, bruised and swelling.

                “Holy shit,” Greycrow muttered, standing up as the Cajun drew in closer, his work suddenly forgotten.

                Neither spoke for a minute, and then Remy smiled with faintly bloody teeth. “Hey…you should see de other guy.”

                He chuckled then, but it was not a mirthful sound. It was cracked and broken. John drew him in, getting his arm under the Cajun’s and helping him limp inside the trailer. He got Remy to the bed and let him fall there was he slipped into the little bathroom and rattled around inside of the medicine cabinet.

                He helped peel the leaner man out of his clothing, revealing more cuts and bruises as he did. “What happened?” he demanded.

                Gambit was not quick to answer, wincing as he helped the other man pour disinfectant onto his skinned knees and bloodied knuckles. “What do you care?” he muttered.

                John stared at him bluntly. “Who did it, LeBeau? I’ll find out, one way or another. This town isn’t as big as you might think.”

                “It’s not important…”

                “Someone _hurt you_ , it is important! Got it?” Greycrow rumbled, startling the younger man with the passion in his voice. He took Gambit by the shoulders, looking him squarely in the eye. “You can’t let these fuckers walk all over you, Remy. I don’t give a fuck what you do out there, or who you do it with, but you _don’t_ let them beat you down, you don’t let them t’ink they’re better! WE ARE BETTER THAN THEM!”

                “Johnnie…”

                To further Remy’s surprise, the man hugged him hard, like he had been waiting to do it for days but had held back. Which, from what Remy’s empathy cold feel, was exactly the case.

                John kept him huddled up close to him, holding him possessively, as if he were protecting the younger man from some unseen threat that was just waiting to pounce. “We stick together now, you understand? No more of this going out and whoring yourself for money. I make enough, and if I don’t, we’ll find another way. You don’t owe these assholes nothing, especially not your dignity. They’re afraid of us; they wanna tear us down cause they know what we can do. And that scares the fucking hell outta them.”

                Gambit didn’t know what to say, so instead he just wrapped his arms around the bigger man and pulled him down in the bed with him. John’s fear of the world around him, of normal men and their prejudice against their kind echoed eerily of Essex’s own words. But it was good to be held again, to be assured that even if the world hated him, he wasn’t alone.

                John didn’t want him to conform, to hide the way Jericho did. He didn’t hold him to any high moral standard the way Eli had, or even expect him to use his talents to their greatest abilities like his father, and even Essex had.

                John expected nothing from him…expect to be just as he was.

               

                Greycrow finished cleaning and covering his hurts, working with military precision and silence. Remy felt his eyes roving over him, feeling in turn both outraged by the abuse he had taken, and at the same time realizing his own attraction for the younger man.

                “Kind of surprised your hands are so banged up,” the mustached man noted after awhile as he sat there on the bed with smaller man, pouring him a shot from a bottle of Jim Bean and watching the little television that he had pulled to the other end of the counter. “considering you can cause explosions with them.”

                Remy threw back a shot, sighing at the way it burned down his throat and warmed him through his core. “It was close quarters…using my powers would have ended t’ings quick, but probably woulda taken me wit it. I didn’t want ta kill nobody…”

                His partner took another shot of his own. “That kind of thinking is gonna land you in an early grave, LeBeau.”

                “You probably right about dat, mon ami.” Remy nodded. “I’ll take my chances all de same. Always was a gambling man.”

                “How many were there?”

                “Started out as just one…den his friends got involved.”

                The dark haired man looked at him out of the corner of his eye and Remy knew what he wanted to ask. He shook his head. “Non…didn’t get dat far. I started it, really. De drunk fucker kept running his mouth and letting his hands wander…no, sir. I maybe trash…but I’m trash wit standards.”

                John almost smiled at this, and Remy chuckled. “Don’t look so damn pleased. It was a stupid t’ing to do.”

                “Just glad to see you gotta a little fight in ya, that’s all.”

                Remy nodded thoughtfully and went quiet for a time. He could feel John’s eyes wandering over him whenever he thought the Cajun wasn’t paying attention. He sensed that the older man was realizing just how long he’d gone without any contact himself, and how much he suddenly missed it. He wanted Remy…but it didn’t seem right for him to act on that impulse. As if doing so would be a violation somehow.

                The young empath was surprised to say the least. The last person he expected to have restraint in this situation was a man like Greycrow. The man was full of surprises.

                “John?”

                “What?” the man grumbled, turning his head. He was taken by surprise then when Remy caught his chin and kissed him. It was quick, but potent, and both men stared at each other in the breath that followed.

                “What the hell…?”

                “Please,” Remy mumbled, moving closer before lifting himself with some effort and straddling the other man’s lap, hands resting on his shoulders. “I just want to feel something good again.”

                John hesitated, but Remy leaned down and kissed him again, and his mouth was warmer than the whiskey that was still burning down the back of his throat. He wrapped his arms around the man and kissed him back, digging his hands into the back of Remy’s shirt, before pulling it up and over his head again.

                Remy liked the feel of the man’s rough hands, how they stuttered down his skin, unapologetic in their need to feel and explore. He ached and flinched slightly when those same fingers and palms probed the warm and wounded spots on him, but never asked for reprieve.

                He didn’t want to go numb, this time, to slip away inside someone else’s thoughts and desires and ignore the reality. The pain kept him anchored, almost as much as the attempts of the normally harsh man below him in his attempts to lessen it.

                John kissed his skin, licking and nipping lightly here and there, tasting blood and sweat and spilled beer on him, savoring it, groaning quietly in approval when Remy reached between them and began to stroke him through the fabric of his jeans.

                He was impressed with how quickly his efforts were rewarded, feeling John already hard and throbbing against his palm, feeling the heat of him even through two layers of clothes. He felt a pinch of nerves gathering in his stomach, both with excitement and sudden tension.

                Greycrow left a dark love mark on his throat and moved his hand down to touch Remy in turn, earning a little moan from the Cajun, who seemed surprised that the man was reciprocating his attentions.

                Remy needed a way to divert his sudden tension and pushed the larger man back against the wall of the built in bed, crawling down his body and making a trail with his mouth down the man’s hardened torso until he reached his jeans. The Cajun removed them with a swift tug, freeing the man’s erection and started teasing him with his hands and mouth.

                John sucked in a deep breath, head falling back and put a hand on top of Remy’s head, “Mmm, god damn Cajun…that mouth of yours is good for more than talkin, huh?”

                Remy just smiled and took him into his mouth more fully, finding himself falling back into his familiar pattern of needing to please his partner before himself. He started to shake, wondering if this was right, if this wasn’t going to turn out like all the other times since he’d come here…

                He lifted his head, hesitating, feeling like he was losing his nerve. He felt Greycrow’s hand on the side of his face and expected to be shoved back down, but instead John pulled him back up to him, kissing him again quickly before tugging Remy’s pants down as well.

                “Not gonna last,” he muttered, “turn around.”

                Remy obeyed, straddling the man’s thighs once more with his back to him. John kissed and kicked his neck and shoulders, hands move around Remy’s torso before sliding lower and stroking him in turn. Remy moaned quietly and bit his lip, trying to stifle the sound. The last thing he wanted was John teasing him for being so vocal.

                “You don’t got to be afraid of me,” his partner mumbled against his skin, building the pace and grinding up against Remy’s ass, quickly dissolving the younger man’s reserve and earning a whimper from him, “Maybe everyone else…but not you.”

                “John,”

                They ground against each other, panting heavily and feeling the heat between them rise as they both grew closer to the edge. Remy kept waiting for John to spread him and take him raw, but Greycrow was holding back. This wasn’t about just getting off, it wasn’t about one man submitting to the other. This was something different, some strange unified need for release.

                “Nnnnngh…” Remy hissed, thighs twitching, stomach almost too tense as he jostled roughly up and down on Greycrow’s lap, feeling the man continued to grind and thrust against his backside while his hand worked him hard and fast to the point of almost over sensitivity. “….Johnnie…aaahh…it’s so good, Johnnie…ahh! I can’t—“

                John bit his shoulder and squeezed him harder, grinding against him more firmly. “Shut up and just cum already!”

                Remy growled and wrapped his hand around the other man’s and leaned back, kissing him roughly as he did just that, gasping against the man’s mouth as he finally came over the edge. The result had it’s desired effect on the darker man, who rocked hard against Remy’s body several more times before finishing himself. Remy shivered a bit a the sensation of the man splattering hot across his skin and kissed him again, tugging his fingers through the man’s slick black hair. “Merci…”

                “Shut it,” the other man muttered, kissing his cheek and moving back, wiping his hand on Remy’s discarded shirt before using it to clean up the mess that was splattered across the Cajun’s backside as well, tossing the mess to the floor to be forgotten about.

                They fell back together in the tussled sheets, lying close by separately as they struggled to cool down and catch their breath. After a moment, Remy felt the man’s hand settle light across his back. “You okay?”

                “Oui,” Remy mumbled into his pillow. After a moment he glanced over at the man, all but his eyes and the bridge of his nose obscured by the pillow; “Why didn’t you…?”

                John rolled his eyes at sat up, giving Remy’s naked ass a light slap that made the other man yelp and wiggle away. “Maybe I figured you were already sore enough.” He answered. He fixed his hair and pulled on his briefs again before moving to turn off the tv and the lights of the little camper, returning to settle back down beside Remy, lying with his back to him.

                “Get some shut eye.”

                Remy laid there, not quite knowing what to make of things for a moment or two, until the other man rolled over and put his arm around his waist and kissed his neck and shoulder again. Remy relaxed in his grip. Tonight, he began to realize, was going to be more of an exception than a rule. But that was okay. In fact, it was more so.

                For the first time since leaving home, Remy felt safe again. He wasn’t an island; there were others out there who were just as lost and desperate as he was. Essex suddenly didn’t seem like an inevitable doom, but rather a gauntlet that he had escaped.

                John was another mutant—a powerful one. Alone they were vulnerable, but together they could be a force that even a man like Dr. Essex would think twice about trifling with.

                And Remy would have been right…

                If Greycrow didn’t already know Essex by another name.

 

***


	16. Chapter 16

 

***

                Logan glanced at the clock on the bedside table and saw the hour was later than he realized. They had a flight to catch tomorrow afternoon; at this rate they would all be lucky to drag themselves out of bed before mid-day.

                The feral looked down at his lover, who was fast asleep beside him, face buried in the pillow. It hadn’t taken Remy long after their battle in the Danger Room to run out of steam. Logan had insisted they return to the attic shortly after, to let the dust settle as it were.

                Listening to his lover speak about his exile from New Orleans only sought to remind him of how Remy was when he found him; a man who had lost his way, too proud to ask for help, too jaded to trust anyone. Now, more than ever, Logan truly understood why.

                He also saw a striking resemblance between himself and the Cajun, possibly the root of his attraction and connection the man. They were both people who had been held, in one regard or another, captive by their potential. Exploited by greater powers, whom they had foolishly trusted, and paid dearly for their mistakes. They both knew that love, however powerful, however true, could fail and be lost within a moment. They knew that life was cheap, and talk cheaper. They both considered themselves less than virtuous, less than heroes. Both were still seeking redemption.

                He looked over to Storm, who was asleep on the other side of the Cajun, lying on top of the blankets, still fully dressed. She had her hands full with the two of them, that he knew. And why she’d ever take such a burden upon herself, maybe he would never understand. But he was grateful all the same.

                He leaned over and kissed them before climbing out of the bed. He was a nocturnal creature by habit, and his healing factor made his need for sleep a trivial one. His mind was too busy to rest at any rate.

                He wandered, but the mansion was asleep, except for the other night creatures who felt more at home in the quiet and seclusion of night. As he wandered, his feet took him back to a familiar door. Logan paused there, debating.

                Hank should be asleep, but somehow Logan knew better. He raised a hand to knock, only to hear McCoy’s voice call from inside. “It’s open, Logan.”

                The feral smiled to himself and tried the knob, stepping inside the familiar room. It felt strange being back in here. He hadn’t set foot inside the place since Hank had left for Washington. The sounds, the smells, it all brought it back in a rush. So much so that he almost turned and left, but Hank called to him again.

                McCoy emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a set of pajamas that were monogramed with his initials. Logan almost laughed at the sight, but bit his tongue. It was so very…Hank.

                “Still up?” the blue furred man asked, tucking his glasses away in their case and setting them aside.

                The shorter man shrugged, “Eh, you know me, Beasty.”

                Hank nodded and seated himself in an arm chair, motioning for Logan to come and sit as well. “How’s Remy?”

                “Worn out.”

                “I can imagine. I hadn’t expected that confrontation in the Danger Room. I hope it didn’t exacerbate the problem. I never meant for him to see that simulation until he’d had another evaluation.”

                Logan raised an eyebrow. “What evaluation?”

                The blue feral tilted his head, which seemed to somehow enhance his feline features, “Logan, everyone who comes to this school is evaluated before they join; even you were. Or don’t you recall?”

                He paused for a moment and then bristled. “Oh. You mean when Jean was poking around in my thoughts…” he muttered. “Didn’t think that was standard procedure.”

                “It isn’t, at least not in that manner. But you were a special case. So was Remy.” He paused and then added, “I don’t suppose you and he talk much about that time; when he was first brought here.”

                “He doesn’t remember a lot of it, I don’t think. Storm told me some things about it…guess I don’t like thinking about him being alone here, hurting the way he was. Pisses me off to think if I had just stuck around a little longer…” he bit off the sentence, shaking off the memory and looked at Hank again. “But he wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you. I don’t know if I ever thanked you for that.”

                “It’s my job, Logan.”

                Wolverine nodded, hands folded between his knees as he stared at the floor and feet, trying not to act as awkward as he felt being in this room again.

                “Why did you come here?” Hank asked then, forcing him to look up again. “You haven’t, you know. Not once since I came back.” He slid a little further back into his seat. “I…still have some of your things.”

                Logan didn’t react, not initially. He just studied Hank for a moment, considering. “I need your help with something.”

                Hank’s golden eyes lit up with curiosity.

                “This Greycrow guy that Rems talked about…I swear I’ve heard the name somewhere before. But I can’t place it. You think they’re any chance you might be able to help me track him down?

                Beast stiffened. “How did you—?”

                “We both know how, Hank. Either through Cerebro or through one of your data bases.”

                “I don’t—“      

                “Don’t treat me like I’m dumb, McCoy,” the Canadian cut in sharply, his voice almost a growl. “Maybe I ain’t the brains of the organization, but I know what you and Chuck, Jeanie and Scooter get up to when the rest of us aren’t looking. How else could you possibly locate and recruit all these kids? You really expect any of us to believe that they all just fall into our lap?”

                “You make it sound so malevolent, Logan,” McCoy answered, feeling rather defensive about the whole subject. “I assure you it’s—“

                Logan waved a hand. “You don’t got to explain it. I just want to know if you’ll help.”

                Hank frowned, folding his arms. “You certainly expect a lot of me, don’t you?” he replied, voice controlled and even, but Logan could sense an undercurrent of anger just below the surface. “Why would you want to find Greycrow?”

                “Nevermind the why.”

                “Absolutely not,” Hank replied, more sternly than before. “If this is about jealousy, I would have thought you’d learned your lesson—“

                “—This is for Remy.” Logan barked then, looking at Hank hard as he stood up, staring the larger feral down. “Are you gonna sit there and tell me that he doesn’t deserve some _justice_ for what’s been done to him? Greycrow has ties to Sinister; maybe he could help us finally take the bastard down!”

                Hank shook his head, standing up and moving away from Wolverine, angry now that he had ever dared believe Logan had come to resolve things. “This school, this team, is not to be used as a means of _revenge_ for you. We are above that—you should be too! Remy is _safe_ here, Charles has made sure of it! Nathaniel Essex is a mad man, he has terrible power….power you are no match for. Or hasn’t everything that Gambit’s told you made that obvious!? Do NOT go looking for a fight Logan, for once in your life!”

                “How can you sleep at night knowing that bastard is out there?! How can you and Charles _sit_ here, pretending he’s not a threat, while he commits these atrocities right under your noses! _THIS_ is what the X-Men are supposed to be _FOR_ , Hank! Not sitting around here playing school teacher all day! That’s not the man I am!” He stood and made for the door. “If you won’t help me, I’ll track him down on my own.”

                “You’ll do no such thing.”

                Logan paused and glared back at him, fist balled, ready to expose his claws. “You gonna stop me, furball?”

                “If I must…” Hank warned, bearing his fangs and extending the claws on his own paw-like hands, his voice turning into a rumbling growl.

                Neither man wanted to be the first to move, despite the tension boiling between them. “You do this…and I promise that no thanks will come from Gambit. He doesn’t _need_ you to fight these battles for him. I know it’s your way…but try to push your feral senses down. Think about how he handled Sinister’s simulation. Think about all the things you _missed_ during the fight. This is _Remy’s_ demon to face down. Not ours…no matter how much we might want to.”

                Logan blinked slowly and after a few seconds his hands uncurled and he looked at Hank with a new expression; “We?” he repeated.

                Beast did not answer, but his ears flattened faintly against his bushy mane of hair and he turned away, moving from the foyer and into the little kitchen where it was dark still. But Logan could see the faint gleam of his eyes even through the thick shadow. “Those scars on his skin were stitched by my hands. How can you think that I don’t feel outrage at the idea of what was done to him?” He paused then drew in a steadying breath. “But I can’t let my emotions get the better of me. I have to think of what is best, for all of us.”

                Logan nodded and started to leave once more, but held back a moment, and added. “You made the simulation. And, if the log is right, you’ve used it almost as often as Scott has.”

                Hank said nothing for a  moment and then gave him a small smile; “I never said I was a saint.”

 

**

 

                It took Logan some time to work off the adrenaline caused by his encounter with Hank. When he finally returned to the attic bedroom, he slipped out of his clothes and into the bed as quietly as he could, hoping neither of his sleeping partners would notice.

                But Remy sought him out immediately, rolling over into his arms and curling close, surprised to feel that Logan’s skin was cool and smelled as though he had just been outside. The Cajun blinked up at him sleepily even as Logan tried to hush him.

                “Where you been, cher? Out for a run?” the Cajun mumbled, reaching up to scratch the stubble on Logan’s cheek and nuzzle into his chest.

                “Ya know me too well, darlin’.” The other man nodded, curling around him tight. “Go back to sleep now.”

                Remy nodded, and started to settle, when Logan surprised him by asking; “Why do you do it, babe?”

                “Hmmm? Do what?”

                “All those people…Jericho, Eli, now this John…you didn’t really think twice about loving any of them did ya? Even if it hurt ya in the end.”

                Remy looked up at him, a little bit more awake now. “I suppose dat’s why dey say fools rush in.”

                “No,” Logan answered, nuzzling him. “don’t get me wrong, darlin’. Just stuns me, I guess. You’re always so willing to put it all out there, to believe in it. I don’t think I was ever like that. Lost too many times I guess.”  
               

                “Well, ya don’t have to worry about dat no more, mon couer. Dis thief stole your heart, and intends to keep it.”

                They grew quiet together and Logan dropped off quickly this time, finally allowing himself to relax fully. But Remy lingered for awhile, savoring the feeling of being tucked between the two people he loved most. Logan had brought up a good point. Remy didn’t know why exactly he believed that this time, this relationship, as unusual and complicated as it was, would turn out alright.

                Before Logan and Storm, he’d never been in love. He cared deeply for people and he invested himself fully in their lives and well beings for as long as he was able, when he was able. But _love_ …the kind that makes you want to stop wandering, to build something lasting _together_ …no, that had never existed for him before now.

                It was elating, and terrifying all at once. Because now he truly had something that he would not only die for, but kill for. Love, after all, was both a person’s greatest strength and their greatest weakness.

 

***

               

                Being with John eased his loneliness, but it was far from a cure-all. As time continued to march on, Remy began to realize how they were living on largely borrowed time.

                For all of John’s command on the pitiful vessel that was the diner, he was not the owner, nor even the manager. It wasn’t until a couple of weeks later that Remy came across the real boss of the diner; a man named Nate.

                Nate was probably around Remy’s age, clean shaven and well groomed. He smelled like hair products and body spray and wore a suit that probably cost more than Greycrow made in six months.

                He walked into the diner that afternoon, scowling behind his sunglasses at the less-than full dining room and stormed back behind the counter, rooting through prep stations and leering at the waitresses, who froze under his intense scrutiny.

                Remy, at his usual place at the corner of the counter, looked up from his food and watched silently as the man strutted past him and shoved his way through the swinging kitchen door. The shouting began almost immediately—John hated for anyone to invade his space. Remy wanted to tell this new comer that he had better respect those boundaries, or he might end up with a hunting knife in his back.

                The Cajun leaned across the counter, catching the attention of one of the waitresses. “Who spit in his grits?”

                “That’s the owner,” the girl replied. “He shows up every so often to go over the books and collect payments…he’s not a nice guy.”

                “Payments on what?”

                “John takes care of everything around here, all the profits, the money for the vendors, money for the rent, it all goes in the safe at the end of the night with receipts. If it isn’t as much as Nate thinks it should be—“

                They heard more yelling and pans hitting the floor, followed by a torrent of curses from Greycrow. Remy stood up nervously, ready to run in a help, but the girl put her hand on his arm.

                “Don’t! You’ll make it worse! He’ll throw John out if he knows you two are shacking up out back!”

                “Don’t care, petite, t’ings are getting out of hand back dere and I—“

                The kitchen door swung open again and Nate emerged, pushing his hair back into place and scowling at the waitress, who scurried away from Remy. The man’s cold grey eyes shifted to the Cajun then, noticing him for the first time.

                “I’m sorry for the disruption sir, please, go back to your meal. Everything’s under control.”

                Remy narrowed his eyes at the man for just a moment, then quickly turned his gaze and began idly stirring his coffee, an easy smile on his lips as he let his Charm do its thing. “Oh, well dat’s good to hear, mon ami. All that shoutin’ and banging around…thought maybe ya’ll needed some help back dere.”

                Nate was snared instantly, standing there blinking at LeBeau for a moment before moving a bit closer to him. “Nothing to be concerned about. Just a…disagreement, that’s all.”

                “Ah,” Remy mused, emptying another pack of sugar into his coffee before raising a finger to his lips to lick off the residual grains, “ Pretty loud disagreement, I’d say.”

                The blonde businessman was barely registering what he was saying, his attention centered on Remy’s lips and his fingers as they continued to toy with his drink. “I’m sorry about that.”

                “Oh, don’t apologize to me, m’sieur. All I mean ta say is dat dis place, well, it’s one of my favorites and I just _love_ de people here, ya know? They’re just so…friendly. And sure does trouble me ta t’ink of you comin’ down on dem so hard, when we all know dey’re doing deir best.”

                “Oh…” he fumbled.

                “Maybe you should go in dere and apologize, non?”

                “Would _you_ like that?”

                Remy gave the man a honeyed smile and brushed his index finger over the other man’s splayed ones on the counter. “I t’ink it takes a real man to admit when he’s wrong. Sure would be impressed…”

                Nate nodded and turned back towards the door, “John! Come out here a moment.”

                Two seconds later, Greycrow grudgingly emerged from the doorway and to Remy’s astonishment he saw that the man was bearing a fresh gash across his cheek. Gambit tensed and stood up, eyes wide, his charade suddenly forgotten.

                “Maybe I was a bit rash just now. But you know that I just want what’s best for all of us, John. I’m sorry if I lost my temper. You understand.”

                Greycrow looked on in befuddlement, his eyes darting first from Nate’s strange dreamy gaze to Remy’s startled one. “What the fuck is this?” he muttered.

                “John, tell him it’s alright. That everything’s fine.” Nate insisted. When the cook didn’t reply, still trying to understand the situation, Nate grabbed him and knocked him back against the prep table. “ _Tell_ _him_ , you idiot! Or do I have to teach you another--?”

                Remy was suddenly over the counter, grabbing Nate by the arm and whipping him around before punching him fast and hard in the face. Remy felt the crunch of the man’s nosebone under his knuckles and felt the warm hot gush of blood that followed. The man bellowed in pain and slumped to the ground, leaving the rest of the diner staring in shock.

                “Arrrrgggh!! He broke my face!” the man on the floor moaned.

                Remy stared in shock, fist still raised, but John grabbed him and yanked him over Nate’s fallen figure and tugged him hurriedly through the kitchen door.

                “Johnnie I’m sorry—“

                “Shut up,” Greycrow commanded quickly, dragging Gambit around the corner and into the back office, where he quickly reached under the desk and started toying with the safe.

                “What are you--?”

                “I said shut up!” Greycrow hissed again as the dial spun and then the door gave a little pop. The mustached man reached inside and grabbed a large cash box, as well as a wad of bags that were sitting on top of it and motioned for Remy to run.

                “Are you robbing de place?!”

                “Just takin’ what’s owed,” Greycrow muttered. They heard a shout then and turned in surprise to see Nate, his eyes already starting to blacken and rivers of blood pouring from both nostrils and rushing down his chin, come charging at them with a gun in hand.

                He fired at close range. Remy expected the bullet to rip through is neck, but instead it was deflected as John pushed in front of him. There was a loud metallic ping as the bullet bounced off the man’s armor, which had been hidden under his shirt sleeve.

                John opened his hand and fired something back at the man that sent him flying back several feet, little holes ripped in the front of his expensive suit. Gambit barely had time to register that John had just shot the man multiple times before the Comanche had him and was shoving him out the door. “Run dammit, run!”

                They darted out the back door and rounded the side lot, where the customer cars were parked. John punched his hand through the closest one’s window and undid the lock, allowing Remy to jump into the passenger seat as he slid into the driver’s side, dropping the box of cash and the mysterious bags on the floor of the backseat.

                John reached under the steering panel and in seconds Remy felt the car jolt to life as he somehow managed to ignite the engine with just his hand. The Cajun glanced at the man’s arm with growing fascination, realizing just what it was John had spent all his time working on in that dark corner of the camper.

                He nervously gripped the edge of the seat and the roof of the car as John peeled out of the parking lot, tires squealing and sped off into the street.

                “D-did you just kill dat man!?”

                “Him or us!” Greycrow barked in reply as he drove, his foot nearly flat on the floor as they sped through the streets, narrowly avoiding two collisions as they sped through intersections unchecked. “You’re _welcome_ by the way!”

                “Slow de fuck down!” Remy yelled, feeling himself become airborne once or twice as they raced down a sloping hill, the car bouncing roughly as it came down, jolting the shocks. “You gonna save me from a bullet just to kill us in a car crash!?”                           

                As they came to a more residential area, Greycrow finally slowed, driving along until they pulled up behind an old impound lot, where he finally put the car into park. Greycrow snarled and screamed, banging his heavy fists on the steering wheel and the dashboard, before shoving the car door open and stepping outside, thrusting out his hands and firing off short, quick blast from his fingertips. Remy watched as the projectiles (bullets, or whatever they were) peppered the side of chain link fence, and the junked cars just beyond.

                Remy slid out the car as well and came up behind him slowly, “Stop dat! Someone gonna notice! We in enough trouble now!”

                John shook him off and scowled, still fuming and panting. “You goddammn idiot…why did you have to go and punch him!?”

                “Cause he _attacked_ you!”

                “So what?!” John barked. “I had it _handled_.”

                Remy fumed, eyes bugging. “ _You_ were de one who told me not to let dese people walk over us! _You_ told me dat! You damn hypocrite!” He slugged Greycrow hard across the face and in turn the man came rushing back at him with a left hook that barely missed cracking Gambit's jaw. The nimbler man grabbed his arm and flipped him, standing over him as he laid there in the dirt with a groan, winded. 

                They stood there, red faced and breathless, trying to collect themselves. “You killed him. Didn’t you?”

                Greycrow didn’t answer and Remy exhaled shakily, running his hands nervously through his hair. “Oh Mon Dieu…what do we do now?”

                “We get out of here. Fast.”

                “What about--?”

                John shook his head. “We leave it all. Come on...get back in the car.”

                Remy hesitated, still trying to find his breath. “You in or out, Cajun?”

                Eventually the auburn haired man turned to look at him, and John’s expression said a lot more than his lips ever would. He looked afraid…afraid Remy would abandon him now, that the Cajun would look at him the way the whole rest of the world did. As something bad and broken.

                Remy was afraid…but he couldn’t just turn his back now. After all, John had done it to protect him. If he had just staid out of it…

                Without saying anything else he moved back around the car and slid inside and Greycrow nodded faintly in thanks before starting off again.

 

                They drove until it got dark, avoiding highways and highly populated areas, sticking to country roads and little used bi-ways until they came to a crappy roadside motel. They didn’t officially check in; Remy picked the lock on a vacant room at the end of the lot that was out of sight of the manager’s office, and they kept the door barred and the curtains closed.

                The news had already picked up the story. There was a warrant out for their arrest; though only John had been named and identified in the shooting, Remy was simply the unidentified accomplice.

                He sat numbly on the edge of the bed, listening to the news coverage and absently picking at their drive-thru dinner. John had hardly said two words to him since earlier, and now he was holed up in the bathroom. Remy tried to keep his empathy shut off; the feelings coming off the man was were erratic and overwhelming, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to hold his composure if he let himself get swept up in them.

                He didn’t know what to do. Right then he would have given anything for a reassuring word from his father, or Tante or Henri…anything to tell him that everything was going to work out alright.

                John eventually emerged from the bathroom, wearing just his pants and finally having shed himself of his body armor, which was now compacted into a strange little ball in his hand. He placed it on the bedside table and opened the heavy black safety deposit box. Remy pretended not to notice. He could have cared less how much money was in there. It wasn’t going to be enough to wash his hands of this.

                “Turn that off.” John commanded, and Remy glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

                “Need to know what dey know, don’t you t’ink?” he asked quietly.

                John moved away from the bed and stomped over to the tv, yanking the cord out of the wall before turning back to Remy. He had a gun in his hand. “You thinkin’ of running out on me. LeBeau?”

                “Oh Jesus…” Remy whispered under his breath, gripping the edge of the bed. “Non, Johnnie. If I was, would I be sitting here with ya now?”

                The black haired man paused, thinking, still waving the gun at Gambit. Remy wasn’t sure if he would really fire at him, or if Greycrow had been overwhelmed by his increasing PTSD. “I’m sorry I got in de way. I’m sorry I fucked it up. But I wasn’t gonna stand dere and let dat asshole bully you like dat. It wasn’t right.”

                John softened and put the gun down on the TV stand before he moved over to Remy, dropping down on the floor in front of him and settling between his knees, bringing them nearly eye to eye. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t…don’t be afraid of me.”

                “I’m not,” Remy lied, feeling his eyes sting with nervous tears. He hugged the man close. “But I’m scared for you, cher. What we gonna do now?”

                “Lie low for awhile…not long. I know someone that can help us.”

                “What, who?”

                “Another Mutant; he’s been hanging around this area for a couple of months, doing recruiting. I got wind of him about a week ago, trying to sell some of my tech. He’s got a safe house, somewhere just outside of New Orleans. He’ll help us.”

                Remy stiffened, looking away nervously. “Non…can’t go back dere. Gotta be someplace else.”

                “There _isn’t_ , Remy. We fucked up. They’re gonna find out what we are, and when they do, it ain’t gonna be just the cops coming down on our heads, it’s gonna be the MRD. Mutants that get caught by them…they go away, and they ain’t never heard from again.”

                Remy’s mouth was dry, his stomach churning painfully. He felt sick. “Johnnie, I _can’t._ De person I’m running from, he’ll know as soon as I set foot back in dat town.”

                “You’ve got me, Cajun. And once we get to this guy, we won’t have to do no more running. Please, ya gotta believe me. It’s this or… “ he glanced back at the gun on the table and Remy cringed, understanding what he was thinking. “Better off dead than ending up on a government lab table.”

                The younger man said nothing, but his eyes were full of dread. John leaned in and kissed him softly and pushed him back on the bed, curling around him tight and Remy let himself be held. “Not used to people standing up for me,” the former soldier muttered after a moment. “…you’re a good guy, LeBeau. I’m awful sorry I got you mixed up in this.”

                “Weren’t your fault, cher. It’s just my luck…dat's all.”

 

**

                They stayed at the hotel until almost dawn, then snuck out before the cleaning crew came around.

                Remy never found out how much was in the safety deposit box. About half way to New Orleans, John made an unscheduled stop and ended up trading all but a few dollars of the contents in exchange for a time and an address.

                Whoever this mysterious savior was that was supposed to snatch them from the jaws of fate, they were going to have to wait until four o’clock that day to meet him. That left them more than two hours to kill, just wandering the city.

                Remy felt like a sitting duck, expecting Essex to lunge out of the shadows at any moment.

                He steered John away from every old haunt and every vaguely familiar hang out in the city, sticking only to the most neglected, unpopular areas. They were hungry and tired, and all that was left between them was twenty dollars and change.

                John managed to nudge the Cajun into a dark bar, where they could drown themselves in cheap drinks until they thought of what to do next.

                Gambit kept his back to the wall and his head down, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his head to try to hide his features. John ‘s dark hair was drawn back and obscured by a stolen baseball cap, with the brim pulled down low, but he seemed to care very little if anyone noticed him for not as he drank from his pitch of watered down beer.

                “We shouldn’t be here,” Remy insisted in a worried, hush voice that wasn’t at all like him. Greycrow glanced at him for a moment and then nudged his glass towards him.

                “Relax, LeBeau. If you look like you have something to hide, people will start to believe it.”

                But Remy couldn’t relax. Mentally he was counting the blocks from the bar to his house. He was counting the seconds, thinking of his father’s routine. Normally, on a Sunday as this was, Jean-Luc would be returning from mass. Remy wondered if he still attended after everything…

                “Kid,” John said, more gently this time, leaning in close and laying a hand over his. “You look like you’re about to jump out of yer skin. Go let off some steam…” he glanced over his shoulder at the man who was watching them from the other end of the bar, surrounded by a gaggle of friends. “That guy can’t stop looking you up and down like a piece of prime rib. Why not go say hello?”

                Remy blinked in surprise and let out a little scoffing laugh; “You want me to go _flirt_ wit someone? You drunk, homme. Or out of yer damn mind.”

                But John leveled his gaze at him, “It’s gonna be a lot less conspicuous if you stop lookin’ so damn morose. Put that voodoo of yours to good use, kid! I won’t mind.”

                “I don’t want to,” Remy muttered.

                John kicked his chair back, “Get over there,” he warned. “It’s getting’ close to time…I’ll keep a look out.”

                Cursing Remy finally got up and made his way over to the bar, asking for another shot, knowing he could charm his way into a free one. As expected, the moment he was free of John, the other man made a move.

                The guy was young, dark and muscular, with a thick layer of stubble and short cropped hair. Remy smelled body spray and gasoline.

                “Hey, how ya’ll doin’ tonight?” he asked, leaning on the bar next to Remy, beer bottle in hand. Gambit glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and finished his shot. He had pulled the man in effortlessly; he could already tell. The man was all smiles, looking him up and down in that not so subtle way, leaning in close so that Remy had to look at him.

                He was arrogant, and not new to the game. Remy could sense that right away too. He no doubt had Remy pegged as one of those lonely hearts who couldn’t seem to find the right guy. But that was fine; Remy could play along. John was right; letting his focus shift elsewhere was exactly what he needed.

                “Better, now dat you’re here, cher.” He smirked, laying the accent on a little thicker than usual.

                The man laughed quietly, and nodded, “You, um, look like you’ve had a long day, if you don’t mind my say so. I feel ya, I really do. It’s fucking hard out there, ya know.”

                “Downright cruel,” Remy answered, turning a little more towards him, locking eyes with the man and letting his Charm do it’s thing. “But, ce’st le vie, non?”

                “Wow. Your eyes are…really something.”

                The man leaned in close, a little closer than Remy would have liked but he rolled with it, putting a hand around the broader man’s back. His fingers brushed over the edge of the man’s wallet as it poked out of his back pocket. He could take it now, excuse himself and make a clean break.

                Remy’s eyes flickered towards the clock on the wall and then back to the table, but John was gone. One bad turn seemed to deserve another.

                “You, uh…you alone?”

                “C’est depend…” Remy purred. “Why you wanna know?”

                The man grinned almost nervously. “Look, I never do this, and if you say no that’s totally okay, I understand, but…would you wanna maybe come sit with me awhile? Have a few drinks and maybe see where the night goes?”

                Remy sucked in his lower lip and felt the man’s crotch actually twitch in response against his knee. “You make a temptin’ offer, cher. But I don’t even know your name.”

                “Ray…just Ray.”

                “Alright, Ray. Why don’t you sit tight, I’ll be right back.” Remy ghosted a little kiss over his cheek as he stepped away, making his way through the crowded and noisy bar towards the restroom.

                Instead of stepping inside however, he ducked out the emergency exit, which had been propped open (unwisely) to let some air circulate into the otherwise stuffy barroom.

                In the fresh air, Remy felt his head clear and he stood for a moment, feeling a pinch of nerves and adrenaline in his chest. He knew he wasn’t really up for this; the distraction of being absorbed in someone elses emotional state never lasted, and he always felt more hollow afterwards.

                He needed to find John and get back to the task at hand. He didn’t know if he dared to hope that this mystery man, this mysterious Mutant benefactor could actually _help_ them but it was something. And he had gone without hope for so long now.

                He started towards the door again when the man at the bar appeared. “Hey! There you are,” he grinned, moving quickly towards Remy, pushing the door closed behind them before the Cajun could warn him not to.

                “Needed some air?”

                “Oui,” the other replied, “Look, Ray, I’m actually here wit a friend, we ain’t planning on stickin’ around long…desole, I guess it’s just not in de cards tonight.”

                The man called Ray blinked at him, tilting his head curiously and letting out an irritated little chuckle, “Wait, wait…that’s it? You just…changed your mind? All the sudden you got plans?” He looked around the empty alley. “I don’t see anybody waiting for ya.”

                Remy squared his shoulders, “Look homme, I’m sorry if I went and hurt you’re feelin’s, but—“

                “But nothing,” The man shoved himself forward, forcing Remy back against the wall with his arms on either side of him. “You need to give me a chance.”

                The ruby eyed man pushed him back, making him stumble a little. “Oh how quickly de nice guy act drops when t’ings ain’t going your way, eh?” he retorted. “You know, you remind me of another fella I used to know. T’ings didn’t work out so good for him either. Best quit while you ahead.”

                He made to walk away, feeling that he had made his point. He didn’t hear the man following him as he made his way around the building, back towards the front door. But he had no sooner turned the corner when a fist collided sharply with his jaw.

                Remy felt like a firecracker had gone off in his face, the pain rippled up through his teeth and cheekbones, all the way through is eye socket and forehead, leaving him blinking and stunned. But he didn’t have any time to recover because another blow came, this time to the stomach as someone kicked him backwards.

                With a cry he tumbled, sprawling onto his back and rolled trying to get to his feet, only to have someone pick him up by the front of his shirt and fling him against the wall, body crushing against his. “You had your chance,” Ray’s voice hissed in his ear.

                “Get off me!”

                There was hand grabbing at the waistband of his jeans, trying to yank them down, another roughly grabbing his ass while others kept him flattened against the rough brick, unable to to get any leverage.

                “See guys, I told you he was a Mutie! Look at his eyes! You ever see eyes like that before?!”

                Remy railed against them with all his strength, managing to throw two of them off momentarily, freeing his hand enough to reach into his pocket and grab a handful of cards, which he quickly ignited.

                “Back off fuckers!” he shouted, swiping the cards at them, making them yelp in surprise as the crackling energy singed them, “Or I rearrange all your ugly ass faces!”

                He flung the cards, making them scatter as it brought bricks and dust down on their heads, the vibration from the explosion setting off several car alarms. He darted down the other end of the alley, unsure of where he was going but knowing he had to put some distance between himself and these bastards.

                He shouted for Greycrow but there was no sign of the man. Remy darted into the street, causing several cars to swerve to avoid him and causing a man on bicycle to crash. The crowds of pedestrians on the sidewalk watched with wide eyes as he passed, shouting and gasping as he darted down another side street.

                This was exactly what he _didn’t_ need. To draw attention to himself.

                He was half a block away now, and darted between the narrow drive of a dry cleaners and Chinese place for a moment, hiding in the shadows as he stopped to catch his breath. This was bad, this was very, very bad. He cursed himself and his Charm and people in general…maybe John was right. No one could be trusted.

                Cautiously he peeked out of the dark, but the street was mostly empty now save a small amount of foot traffic. Slowly he stepped out from the alley onto the sidewalk, watching, waiting, but he saw no one. He didn’t even hear sirens, which seemed unusual.

                Nervously, he crossed the road and started back towards the bar, wondering what had become of John. He didn’t want to chance getting separated from the man, he might not find him in time.

                But he was only a few yards from the intersection when a car, which had been idling at the curb, suddenly surged forward.

                Remy shouted but he didn’t have enough time. There was no avoiding it, so when the bumper crashed into him, he rolled into it, allowing the propulsion to send him rolling up and over the windshield, shattering it, before throwing him off the roof.

                He landed with pained cry on the concrete and laid there, completely stunned for a moment, unable to get up. The man in the driver’s seat; Ray himself, kicked open his door and came towards him, laughing at Remy’s anguish.

                “Holy shit! Did you guys see that?! What the hell is this guy, huh?” he laughed. Gambit stared up at him from the pavement, his vision blurred and fading, Ray’s voice sounded almost as if it were coming from under water.

                The man kicked him and Remy yelped in pain, wincing and wheezing as he felt something crack inside him, but unable to get up otherwise. His fingers crackled with energy, but he was unable to focus, unable to channel the current properly. Ray leaned down and grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before hitting on normal people, you freak.”

                Gambit tried to say something to the effect of “fuck you” but it only came out as a garbled groan.

                He fully expected Ray’s stupid grin to the last thing he saw, but instead something else happened.

                Suddenly Ray snapped up, rigid as rail, standing almost at attention in front of him.

                “Wh-what the hell?!” he gasped.

                “That’s enough of that.” A voice said from somewhere behind Remy. It was deep, rumbling, rough edge, but Gambit hadn’t heard it before. He heard heavy boot falls from behind him and then someone was standing next to him in the street.

                Vaguely he noticed the soles of heavy combat boots, edged by ragged jeans, and as he gazed up he glimpsed a large, muscular figure of a man who was heavily tattooed, bearded and wearing a green cap.

                He didn’t look at Remy, but moved right to Ray, grabbing him by his shirt and giving him a brutal little shake. “You must be pretty damn stupid, attacking a ‘Mutie’ as you call us. Don’t you know we look after our own?”

                “L-let go of me man! It’s his fault! He-he came on to me!”

                The bearded man nodded thoughtfully. “Right then. Well, I think it’s time you and your little friends excused yourselves. But first…” he thrust Ray forward, forcing him to bend down to look at Remy. “Apologize.”

                “I-I-I’m s-sorry! I’m sorry!”

                “Very good.” The stranger growled, righting him and pushing him back. “Now get in your car and…I don’t know. Drive off a pier.”

                Strangely, Ray nodded slowly and turned back to his car, which was still skewed on the sidewalk. He and his friends all climbed back inside the dented, battered vehicle and drove off slowly down the road.

                The stranger turned finally to Remy, bending down next to him in the road.

                “D-don’t touch me….” Remy wheezed, “som-somet’ing broken I t’ink…”

                The man picked up him easily, looking at Gambit with strange cold eyes that sent an immediate sense of numbness through Remy’s whole being. “It’s alright, Remy. You’re in good hands at last.”

              

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

 

***

 

                He slipped in and out of consciousness for a time. He remembered being carried to a van, and John shouting his name, followed by a long bout of cursing and shouting. He remembered the stranger rolling up his shirt and examining the tender, screaming places that burned across his ribs and chest.

                He remembered the feel of thick hands and hushed voices, existing somewhere above the haze of pain and semi-consciousness. Other faces passed in and out of his vision, none he recognized. Eventually it all faded for a time.

                When he woke again, the pain was a dull ache, a weight on his chest that made him slightly too aware of his breathing. He was lying on an old futon on the floor, a thin blanket tossed over him. He did not recognize the room, which was small and otherwise empty, save for a trash can that was filled with discarded bandages, gauze and tissues and an empty chair perched in the corner by the window.

                “Hello?” Remy called hoarsely into the emptiness. “Anyone dere?”

                Sitting up made him ache and feel slightly nauseated, but he managed. Someone had bound his ribs tightly, and he could see bruises forming under the corners of the wrapping. But other than that, he felt mostly sound. He managed to get to his feet, hobbling to the doorway and peering out into the dark hallway.

                He heard voices immediately, all coming from somewhere below. Inching out of the room he made his way along the hall to the top of a stairwell, and peered down towards the light below. From his vantage point at the top of the twisting steps, he could see the edges of a sitting room that was currently cluttered with people he didn’t recognize, some men, some women, others not quite distinguishable, all talking low and quickly to each other.

                “Well I don’t know about you, but I’m not too keen on hanging around this dump for much longer,” a smaller man, with a shaggy head of dark hair and a sort of pug-like face muttered, leaning back across the couch occupied, spreading his short thick arms along the back. “I thought we were _supposed_ to be heading to some great stronghold for Mutants. Not some shitty flop house.”

                “I don’t recall anyone asking your opinion on the matter,” another voice replied, this one smooth and cold, belonging to a long lean man with shoulder length blonde hair and sharp nose. He was smoking a cigarette and pacing the floor lazily, looking bored and restless. “you’re as helpless as the rest of us on these matters.”

                “Helpless? Look, _Scrambler_ is never helpless!”

                “What a fuckin’ dumb thing to call yourself,” John’s voice quipped then, making Remy step a little further into the light to get a better look. “Just went with the first idea huh?”

                The little man leapt off the couch and made as if to lunge at Greycrow, but was brutally shoved back into place by another man, this one with younger with black hair and high cheek bones. “Sit down. No fighting in here,” he reminded the other man. “Boss’s orders.”

                Gambit shuffled back into the shadows, not sure what he had stumbled into. John had spoken of a safe house that they were supposed to go to, yet somehow Remy had expected something very different. His Empathy was picking up on a slew of things, mostly restlessness, frustration and paranoia. Then entire group of people gathered below him seemed to be in a state of slow simmering anxiety, but their feelings were too jumbled to really discern the cause. There was an air of fatality that hung over them all, a sort of collective consensus that they had come to the last place of refuge.

                Remy wasn’t sure he liked the idea of that.

                He sensed movement behind him and turned sharply, though it made him gasp and wince and saw a large figure hovering just behind him in the hall. The man didn’t speak but nodded quietly and motioned Remy to follow him, seeming keen to remain unnoticed.

                Gambit followed, unsure why he didn’t show more hesitation. The man drew him back into the doorway of the room he emerged, looking him up and down. “You’re up sooner than I expected,” he began, seeming pleasantly surprised by the idea. “Skinny little thing like you going up against that bunch. I don’t have to tell you that the odds weren’t good; especially after they ran you down. Smart move rolling into it though. Otherwise, well…” he shrugged his broad shoulders and Remy couldn’t help but stare at the intricate lines of his tattoo that traveled from his wrist all the way up to his neck on his left side. “we wouldn’t be here, would we?”

                Gambit blinked, not sure what to say, still feeling mildly dazed. “Qui etes-vous?” he asked.

                The man smiled at his French and stuck out his thick hand for Remy to shake, “Sorry, guess we ain’t been formerly introduced. You can just call me Adam.”

                The ruby eyed man gripped his hand, opening his influence wide in an attempt to get a better feeling for the stranger’s intent. But he felt nothing…just a sort of wall of muffled sound that barred his influence.

                He drew back sharply, gripping the wall nervously. The man in front of him looked mildly shocked at his reaction. “Easy there, partner. I don’t bite.”

                “What are you?” Remy demanded.

                The man cocked his head slightly, eyeing the Cajun with curious brown eyes under the fringe of his black hair, which was flattened under a green knit cap. “Mutant, son. Just like yourself.” His eyes drifted to Remy’s hands, which were glowing faintly as tiny sparks started at his fingers. “John said you were the jumpy kind. But I promise, I ain’t here to do no harm. I just want to help.”

                For a long moment they stood, eyeing each other, the tattooed man studying him with a patient gaze as Remy decided between fight or flight. Finally the glow began to fade from his fingers and he sagged a bit, keeping himself steady against the wall. “If you’re so keen on helping us, m’sieur, maybe you best t’ink about getting out of dis place. Been some bad trouble here lately.”

                The other man nodded, scratching the thick scruff of facial hair that lined his jaw and shaped around his mouth. “Actually that trouble is exactly why I’m here. Guess you can consider me and my friends down there a kind of ‘disaster response’ unit. We go where others like us are in trouble, do what we can to get them help, or get them relocated someplace safe.”

                “Den you should be on your way,” the other man suggested.

                “I was planning on it, actually. But then your friend reached out to me.”

                “And you have my gratitude,” Remy nodded, “but you shouldn’t waste any more time. Trust me when I say dat N’Awlins is not place for our kind right now.”

                He moved past the man and back into the scant little room, finding his shoes, shirt and coat at the foot of the futon. He made to dress himself, though moving was an increased effort. He felt the other man’s eyes on him, watching him and felt a small thrill of lust coming from him, though it was low and muffled beneath the heavy mask of whatever was shielding him from Remy’s empathic link.

                “Someone sure must have put the fear into you,” Adam said again, folding his arms across his broad chest. “I get that, believe me. People can be remarkably cruel.”

                Remy ignored him, continuing to struggle into his clothes. “My friend and I need to leave here, m’sieur. I’m sorry we held you up.”

                “I don’t think John is making any plans to set out,” the man behind him said then. “We’ve asked him to stay on with the group, and he seems pretty keen on it.”

                Remy stiffened. He should have expected this, he realized, but it stung none the less. He set his teeth and managed to pull on his shoes again. “Well, dat’s John’s choice I suppose.” He grabbed his coat and turned towards the door, but the man bared his path, giving him a sympathetic but beseeching look.

                “You aren’t going out there on your own, Remy. You’re too easy a target in your condition. Stay with us; we can help you.”

                “Afraid I must decline,” Gambit muttered, trying to push past the man’s thick arm, only to be barred again as the other Mutant allowed his muscular frame to fill the entire doorway. Remy felt a pinch of panic in his stomach, unsure if he was dealing with a threat or not. Gambit glared at him, eyes glowing faintly. “Do you have any idea how sick and tired I am of people who don’t understand de word ‘no’!?” he snarled.

                The other mutant seemed unmoved, “You need to look at your situation,” he said firmly. “You’re injured, and alone. Clearly, you’ve already got someone hunting you, someone who expects you to make a mistake. Your odds aren’t good, Mr. LeBeau, whether you want to admit that to yourself or not. I’m offering you an alternative to what’s basically suicide.”

                “Maybe I got a death wish,” Remy retorted, speaking out of spite, only to realize there was more truth in his words than he realized.

                To his surprise, the man stepped down then, giving him a resigned look and pushed his wild hair away from his face. “Maybe you do. And if so, sadly…I can’t stop you. I just want you to know that if you find yourself on that ledge, thinking there’s no other way…there is.” He leaned in and kissed Remy’s cheek lightly. “Think about it, alright?”

                He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans then and turned away, leaving Remy alone in the room again.

 

**

 

                He didn’t leave that night or the following day.

                A constant, low burning anxiety filled him as he wandered the sparely filled house, slowly taking in his new surroundings and learning about the strange band of displaced Mutant’s whose company he now shared.

                Most were older than him, and also more advanced in the use of their powers. There was a man who could take on a crystalline form that could cut through flesh as easily as hot knife through butter. Another member of the group could summon whirlwinds at his command, turn placid water into a whirlpool at a flick of a finger.

                And then there was a woman, with short dark hair and hard set jaw named Phillipa. Of all the odd house mates he had suddenly acquired, Phillipa was the only one besides John and Adam that didn’t either view him as competition or a potential conquest.

                This was, perhaps, only for one reason. It was swiftly and painfully obvious to the Empath that she had thing for Greycrow. On the few occasions where Remy forced himself to socialize and leave the seclusion of the tiny bedroom, he always noted the way the woman eyed the Comanche man, as if she wanted to eat him up with a spoon.

                Gambit stood in the kitchen, eating an apple over the sink and staring out at the short, fenced in yard that lay beyond the kitchen window. He knew this neighborhood, though it had been years since he’d traveled its narrow streets. It was eerily close to the children’s home where he had been raised after being abandoned.

                It seemed strange to him that he should find himself so close to home now, and yet everything felt surreal and dreamlike, as if the house itself somehow stood just outside of the rest of reality. Remy kept telling himself that he could leave at any time. The doors were never locked, except at night. And what was a locked door to a thief like himself?

                But despite this knowledge, he felt as though there was no real escape. If he left the safety of the house and its close company of Mutants, the world beyond was waiting to swallow him alive. He had dreamed as much in fact, having woke from a vicious nightmare of Essex standing just outside his door, hands grasping, ready to drag him down into some unseen hell.

                Someone entered the kitchen then, breaking his solitude. A woman, tall and dark haired with a toned and sculpted build made her way across the black and white tiles of the kitchen floor, reaching for the fridge and drawing out the carton of milk. Remy felt her eyes on him.

                “You remind me of a cat I had once,” she said without preamble, drinking directly from the carton and moving to stand beside him. “The way you prowl about, quick and quiet, just staring off at nothing…it was like he saw things I couldn’t. Always creeped me out, actually.”

                Remy looked at her slowly, chewing his food thoughtfully. “Not sure if dat’s supposed to be a compliment or not,” he answered once he swallowed.

                She shrugged her shoulders and took another drink. “I’m kind of surprised you’re still here. We had you pegged for a runner.”

                “I got nowhere to run to,” he answered, rubbing his sore ribs absently. “And even if I did…probably wouldn’t make it dere before dey caught me.”

                The woman nodded. “Best take your chances here then, like the rest of us.”

                “You out of places to go too, cherie?” he asked and she crinkled her nose in disdain at the affectionate name and shook her head.

                “I used to be a marine. Then I received a dishonorable discharge, after four years of outstanding service. You want to know why?” she smiled at him, “Cause I’m a Mutant.”

                “I’m sorry to hear dat,”

                “Their mistake.” She nodded. She looked him up and down again, “How’d a sweet little thing like you ever get mixed up with Greycrow? Shouldn’t you be, I dunno, suckin on crawfish or something with a couple of girls on your arm?”

                Remy laughed wistfully. “Would you believe dat not so long ago I was doin’ just dat?”

                “Even the girl part?” she quipped. “I mean, you are so clearly--?”

                “Prettier den you?” he added with a smirk. She laughed and Remy smiled in spite of himself.

                “Damn you sure are, honey.” She took another drink and tossed the empty carton in the trash. “You know, Adam sure seems fond of you. He’s stuck around here a lot longer than planned, just to make sure you had time to heal.”

                The Cajun looked at her with surprise at this. “What? Why would he--?”

                She shrugged her shoulders again, “I don’t know. I just know that there was a plan in motion before Greycrow called him, and after that everything switched gears. Which some of the others found a little upsetting. I mean, what makes you so special, right?” She continued on before Remy could answer, “But then we got a look at ya, and the way you came in…guess I understand. You’re a sweet little piece of southern fried ass. And a guy like Adam, he probably doesn’t make a lot of time to make sure he’s getting off properly.” She glanced behind him. “Though the size of you, I don’t know where he thinks he’s gonna shove it. Liable to kill ya.”

                Remy chuckled again at her vulgarity, though he felt his face redden slightly. “De mouth on you—“

                She grinned and patted his cheek lightly, the way a mother or an older sister might, “You just worry about _your_ mouth, sweetie pie. Worry about thinking how you’re gonna avoid lock jaw if he decides he wants you to blow him.”

                “Alright, alright,” Remy wiggled free from her, moving out of the kitchen, now thoroughly convinced he shouldn’t have left his room. “Don’t be mad at me, madame,” he added, “De only one holding you back from doing de same to John is _you_. Got no strings attached…” he waved his hand, “you have my blessing to fuck his brains out.”

                It was her turn to look faintly embarrassed, but Remy didn’t stick around for a retort. Instead he returned to his room and tried to digest what he had just learned.

                He was more than used to people objectifying him, lusting after him, what have you. That was not at all his concern. What interested him more was the idea that Adam had shifted focus so radically, even before he had actually _met_ Remy.

                Which meant that he had at least some intent on collecting him before the trouble at the bar. This struck Gambit as more than a little odd, and more than a little coincidental.

                If Adam was what he said, a Mutant who traveled about looking to assist others in need, there was some chance that he might have run into some of the other Mutants from the nightclub and learned about Remy from there. It seemed plausible…yet Remy didn’t feel satisfied by that answer.

                He moved towards his window, looking back out at the short yard below, where he could see Greycrow and a few of the others gathered, clustered around a table with maps and what looked like schematics or blueprints spread out across the surface.

                John’s focus had shifted so abruptly since their arrival, and Remy felt almost forgotten. But he was more concerned with the questionable motives of Greycrow’s new companions than he was with being ignored. What was it they were planning on doing, now that they were in Adam’s company?

                He almost didn’t hear the footsteps that came behind him then, until he heard the faint squeak of a floorboard and felt a chill drift up his spine. A hand was reaching for his shoulder and he turned, fist balled, ready to strike.

                A thick fist caught his, blocking the blow and holding him fast. He found himself staring up into the face of the black haired mutant, who was staring him down with a new sort of intensity that made Remy shiver again. “Good punch,” the man in the stocking cap replied with a little smirk. “ though I wouldn’t recommend it as a good conversation starter.”

                Remy blinked for a moment then and retracted his arm, rolling his shoulder and trying to put a bit more distance between himself and the larger man. “Don’t like being snuck up on,” he muttered.

                “Sorry about that,” the other answered. “I tried to get your attention, but you seemed really far away just now.” He glanced out the window at the group below. “Afraid to make friends?”

                The ruby eyed mutant ignored him, arms folded. “Don’t like de feel of t’ings. Dese people you been collectin’, dey all kinds of messed up. I ain’t one to cast stones, but I got de feeling dat some of dem are up to no good.”

                The tattooed man nodded thoughtfully, scratching his beard. “Your empathy lets you read their intentions? Useful. But you’re right of course,” Adam said, rather nonchalantly. “Most of our house mates have criminal records, though their crimes vary across the board. Not so very unlike yourself, Mr. LeBeau.”

                Remy stiffened, feeling a coil tighten in his stomach. “What did John tell you?”

                “That you were on the run from someone, and that you had been stealing wallets and whoring yourself to survive since he met you. And that you helped him kill a man.”

                Remy paled, but Adam continued, “Don’t be upset with him, I demanded details. Besides, your sins are rather petty compared to your dear friend ‘Scalphunter’s.’ Or didn’t he tell you that was what they used to call him when he was working as an Assassin?”

                He felt like the floor was melting under his feet and his legs felt slightly numb from the shock. He had seen bad stuff in John’s past…he just didn’t realize that it was only the tip of the iceburg.

                “I don’t blame him for holding back. People tend to not want to get close to you when they realize you have a body count to your name that is almost in triple digits. And really…I believe he truly does care about you. Or he wouldn’t have been so desperate for my help.”

                “Don’t know what you mean…”

                “Don’t lie,” Adam said bluntly, though not harshly. “I think we’re all passed that now. None of us here are innocents, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t victims. Nor does it mean that we can’t find our way in the world.” He moved a little closer to the nervous man, still looking calm and collected, but Remy could sense a current of lust rising off him. “I know you want to believe that, Remy. It’s what you want more than anything in the world.”

                “You don’t know me,” Gambit muttered. “Stop acting like—“

                “But I _do_ know you,” the other answered, moving as close as he dared until he had Remy’s back against the wall without the Cajun fully realizing it, somehow entranced by those strange blue eyes that seemed to suck him in deeper and deeper into their depths. “Do you believe in fate, Remy? That time and chance can somehow unite to draw certain people together, over and over again, through decades and centuries…perhaps even beyond the bonds of this world and the next?”

                It sounded like a bunch of romanticized bullshit, but Gambit could find no witty reply. Instead he felt himself being drawn into the man’s thick arms, which seemed to be winding their way around him as he leaned in to kiss him. Remy tried to turn his head, but the man wasn’t put off by it, kissing his cheek and neck and jaw when he was denied his lips.

                Gambit tried to push past the strange muffling sensation he felt folding over him, unsure what was causing it. His Charm, for once, seemed well under control. This sudden infatuation his benefactor was bestowing upon him was not of his doing. Yet somehow he felt spellbound as he stood there, allowing the other man to touch and caress him.

                Remy’s hands brushed along Adam’s arm, fingers tracing along the thick black ink until he noticed something new there among the designs that he hadn’t noticed before. A word: Sinister.

                “Sinister…” Remy repeated somewhat hazily.

                Adam smiled against his neck, his hands possessively gripped to Remy’s back and thigh. “You don’t know how long I have been waiting to hear you say my name that way, Remy…”

                In confusion, Gambit looked the man in the eye again and felt the air go out of him when he saw the gleaming red shape of diamond appear upon the man’s forehead, just under the sweep of his bangs. “Nathaniel Essex was the name I was born with; but _Mr. Sinister_ was the name the world gave me, just as you call yourself _Gambit._ These are our true names, our true selves. The rest…” he began to shimmer and shift in front of Remy’s startled eyes, shrinking to his former size, his dark tan skin fading to sickly grey paleness as even the tattoos vanished. It had all been a façade. “…is just a lie we tell ourselves.”

                “ESSEX!”

                He made to wrench away, but he could not move. Sinister held him firm and fast, and Remy felt the pulsing pain of his influence in his mind, paralyzing him to the spot. “I’m sorry, Remy.” The man said, much to the other’s increasing shock. “Look at you. Look at what you’ve let the world _do_ to you…this was never my intent. I’m sorry. So sorry.”

                Gambit didn’t know how to respond to this strange new behavior. He tried to push his own powers forward then, using the link that Sinister had snared him with. Trying to read Sinister’s emotions was like sinking into a tar pit, but Remy could catch very faint glimpses of things. A deep, smug sense of triumph was prevalent, but it was undercut by something Gambit thoroughly believed that Nathaniel Essex lived without: remorse.

                The contact broke and both men looked the worse for it, Remy falling back against the wall and slipping down it, panting and aching while Essex seemed winded as well. “You _killed_ my brother, my father too if you’d had de chance--!”

                “ _Humans_ killed your family, Remy. _Humans_ abandoned you as child. _Humans_ have shunned you, used you, abused you since the day you were born! Still you don’t see the obvious! You will never be like them, and so in the end they will always turn you away. But I _won’t_. All this time…all this time you’ve been missing. Where are you friends, your father, your lovers now?”

                Gambit didn’t have answer.

                “I went too far. I know that. You made me angry with your constant rejections and I reacted…poorly. But I was desperate and your Charm…you might think I am immune to them, but I am not.”

                “So it’s my fault you did all dis? How _dare_ you—“

                “When we met, did you ever _imagine_ that we would find ourselves here?” Essex replied, cutting him off. “Oh Remy…I don’t know how to make you understand. You are destined to be someone important to me, to our future. If I do nothing to guide you to that path….then I have failed not just you, but all of us. I love you. Can’t you see that?”

                “Obsession and love aren’t de same t’ing.”

                “Aren’t they?”

                Remy heard footsteps at the door and turned and saw John standing there, looking concerned, draw brow furrowed. “What the fuck is going on in here?”

                Gambit leapt up and rushed him, trying to pull the larger man out into the hall. “Run! Run before he--!”

                “Whoa, whoa, slow down!” Greycrow gasped, keeping the leaner man firmly in place. “Cajun, it’s alright…guess I didn’t tell ya Adam was a shape shifter, but I didn’t think you—“

                “YOU KNEW!?” Remy screamed. “YOU KNEW WHAT HE WAS?!”

                John blinked in confusion at the younger man’s hysterics and then looked back to Essex, who had shifted back into his muscular form. “Mr. LeBeau and I have some recent and sadly _sour_ history, Scalphunter. Since you two seem to be so _close_ these days, perhaps you’ll do me the favor of talking some sense into him.”

                Greycrow frowned darkly. “Dammit, Sinister….if I’da known…”

                “Yes. Which is why you didn’t.” He moved from the room then, leaving the two standing in the hallway alone.

                Remy wrenched free from John’s hand and stared the other man down, glaring at him with the expression of a wounded animal. “Why did I ever listen to you? Why did I ever _trust_ you…you have no idea what you done, Johnnie…don’t you know what he _is_?”

                Greycrow hesitated for a moment, obviously disturbed by Remy’s behavior. But after a time he squared his shoulders and set his jaw, folding his broad arms across his chest. “ I know what he can do. I know what he’s offering. Steady work, good pay… _protection_. Not just from regular people either, but the MRD and whatever other powers out there want to see us obviated. I told ya before, Remy…we gotta stick together.”

                _“He’s a MONSTER!”_ Gambit screamed, sparks shooting from his fingers and crackling across his skin like little bursts of lightning. “He’s a murderer! A butcher! He’s the _thing_ I’ve been running from all dis time! He stole my life from me, and you bring me right to him, practically gift wrapped!”

                He charged at John out of pure rage, fist gleaming and landed several hard blows across the man’s face and chest, knocking him into the wall and causing the plaster to crack. Remy made to strike him again but Greycrow blocked him this time, managing to fling Gambit away and pin him face-first against the wall, arms twisted behind his back.

                “CALM DOWN!” the Comanche man bellowed, “I’m your friend, LeBeau, but if you come at me again, you’re gonna be waking up next week with the imprint of my fist on your face…”

                Remy twisted and snarled in his grasp, but John kept him effectively pinned, rebuffing every attempt. Eventually, the smaller man sagged against the wall, out of breath, the fire gone out of his eyes. He dropped to the floor and sat there, staring at nothing…lost.

                John was afraid…he’d seen that look before, but never on Gambit. “Kid…I know this ain’t what you wann hear right now, but you _know_ he’s right. We need to look after each other now. Forget all the bad before.”

                He knelt down beside the other man and put his arms around him and Remy went, offering no resistance. “I’ll be right here with ya….that’s more than what ya had before ain’t it? I mean…what he said about your family, all those other people…none of them exactly came to your rescue did they?”

                Remy didn’t answer.

                “You don’t need them. You’re tough, I know that. Give it some time…get strong again. Show us all what this ‘greatness’ he says you’re destined for is. And then, if you still feel the same way about it…I swear I’ll help get you out of here.”

                He said nothing, but eventually nodded against John’s neck, faintly gripping his arm.

                He knew he couldn’t go back to running, to selling himself to survive, constantly looking over his shoulder in fear of what was lurking in the dark. He’d be dead in a few weeks at that rate. He was weaker now than he wanted to admit, and there was just no more fight in him.

                If he tried to flee Essex again…he would die. If he staid…if he pretended to comply, to surrender himself, until he had regained his strength…then maybe he could end this nightmare forever.

                “Alright…” he mumbled. “I’ll stay.”

 

***

 

                Logan was loading the last of their bags into the car as Storm made a quick final check in with Charles, Scott and Jean before departing, making sure that their weren’t any duties she had left undelegated in her absence.

                Remy was making a final sweep of Storm’s room, check list in hand, to be sure nothing had been left behind, when another figure appeared in the doorway, filling it up with his large blue shadow.

                “All ready to go?” Hank asked.

                The auburn haired man nodded, checking off the final item on the scribbled list and stuffing it into his jacket pocket. “I sure hope so! Not used to all dis baggage, ya know? Usually, I want to go some place, it’s just me and whatever I can carry.” He grinned, “But, I guess it’s kinda nice…knowing I got some place I can come home to when it’s all done.”

                “You will always have a home here,” Beast replied. He tugged lightly at his collar, as though he was nervous. “I…just wanted to see you off. And to thank you.”

                “Thank me?”

                “For including me in all this. For trusting me.” He looked at the man with deep sincerity. “You are very brave. Braver than I think I could ever be.”

                “Brave?” Remy repeated, chuckling a little. “I wouldn’t call it dat…a braver man would have chosen death before giving up like dat.”

                “But you _didn’t_ give up,” Hank replied then, moving closer now. “If you had given up, you wouldn’t be here, I promise. You are fiercely valiant, Mr. LeBeau, and stronger than you realize. And if anyone were to say otherwise of you in my presence, I would—“

                Remy leaned up and kissed his cheek and wrapped an arm around his neck in an affectionate embrace, effectively silencing the blue furred man. “Merci, Henri.”

                Hank felt his cheeks burning red beneath his fur as he lightly gripped the other man back before reluctantly releasing him, hearing Logan leaning on the car horn below. “Well…I shan’t keep you any longer. I don’t want you to miss your flight!”

                “Me nether, especially since Logan ain’t exactly keen about getting on plane in the first place.”

                Hank chuckled quietly to himself, “Ah yes, I had nearly forgotten his distaste for flying. I’d offer him something to calm his nerves, but I’m afraid his healing factor would negate it rather quickly.”

                “Don’t worry, I’m sure Stormy and I can keep his mind off it.”

                “I’m sure you will.”

                They stepped outside at last and Logan grunted as Storm was coming around to the passenger door. “Ain’t got all day, darlin’! Unless you want to drive to New Orleans, which I—“

                “Logan, hush!” Storm chided, dragging him into the car.

                Gambit chuckled and glanced back at Hank one more time, “Don’t worry, Beast, I bring dem back in one piece!”

                Hank nodded and watched as they sped off from the drive, rattling down the long path towards the gates beyond. The world around him grew quiet and strangely empty without them and he sighed, folding his hands behind his back as he returned to the door, still faintly smelling Remy’s scent on his fur.

 

***

               

                They arrived in New Orleans late that afternoon, to fair weather and sunshine. The entire flight down, Gambit had been his usual charming, jovial self, laughing and chatting about nothing in particular. But there was a subtle sense of nervousness that didn’t go unnoticed by either Logan or Ororo.

                It wasn’t, however, until they arrived at the hotel (the same Remy had shared his first night with Eli) that he grew quiet and anxious again.

                He stood out on the balcony over looking the street for a long time, watching the cars and the people below, hearing the sounds of music wafting over the courtyard and seeing the crowds gather for the big Mardis Gras celebration.

                Logan approached him, leaning across the black wrought iron rail next to him as he followed the man’s distant gaze. “Good to be home, darlin’?”

                “Oui…” Remy nodded with a nervous smile. “Almost too good.”

                Logan nodded, putting his thick hand over his and holding it tightly, tangling their fingers together. “It’s alright, Cajun. What’s past is past. That shadow’s gone from ya now. You know that, right?”

                His mate nodded again, and his smile brightened, some of the anxiety fading from it. “I thought Essex took all my good memories of dis place from me. Thought he tainted it for good. But…now dat I’m back here…all I can see is de good times. This city has never steered me wrong, never let me down…and when I was at my lowest…it gave me you.”

                Logan nuzzled him. “Cajun, yer a sap.”

                “You love it,” Remy grinned, though it faded too quickly. They paused together, watching the crowds and listening to the music. “Cher…I know we all came here to have a good time and lose ourselves for awhile. And I cannot _wait_ to show you how a real Cajun does Mardis Gras…but dere’s somet’ing I got to do first.”

                Logan nodded, “Stormy and I thought as much.”

                “Would you come wit me?”

                “Of course, darlin’.”

 

**

                The trees were the same, though some of the moss seemed to hang lower now, and the drive seemed a little bit overgrown—a little less meticulously cared for.

                The house rose up ahead of them, stately and pale white, with it’s high pillars and long porches and black shutters, the edges of the grounds dotted by the newly flowered magnolia bushes. There were no cars parked along the circular lot, no banners or beads hung from banisters to signify the holiday. The LeBeau Plantation looked lonely and forlorn, even under the bright blue sky.

                “Well…here we are.” Remy said as they pulled their rental car up at the foot of the steps leading up to the house. Storm and Logan both stepped out, staring up at the grand house with a renewed sense of wonder and appreciation for it.

                “It’s more lovely than you described,” Ororo said as Gambit came around from the driver’s seat to stand between her and Wolverine.

                Logan sniffed the air, feeling the thick smell pollen from the gardens tickles his nose and almost make him sneeze. “S’quiet, no sign of trouble that I can smell. Place is quiet as a graveyard. Are you sure he’s home?”

                Remy didn’t answer and drifted towards the stairs, moving up the old familiar steps until he reached the threshold of the front door. His hand hesitated at the knob, unsure whether to try it or to knock. It had been years…years since he’d stood here, in front of this door. Years since he dared to show his face. He wasn’t sure what to expect…

                He tapped his knuckles swiftly against the door and held his breath. Logan and Storm lingered behind him on the steps, not wanting to crowd or intrude, but needing to be close. Storm slipped her hand into Wolverine’s as they waited, the silence seeming almost too loud.

                Remy heard footsteps approach the door, and then tumblers turning over in the lock. He felt a momentary rush of adrenaline that made his stomach flutter and gave him an impulse to run. The door opened, and a man appeared, blinking at the figure who stood in the shadow of his doorway.

                He was dark haired, though there were now brighter streaks of silver and grey flecked across his temples, and the little cracks and wrinkles beneath his eyes and at the corners of his mouth, beneath his dark facial hair were more pronounced now. But his eyes had the same warmth to them, even as they looked on in utter disbelief, squinting for a moment and then widening.

                “Mon Pere…” Remy began, sucking in a breath and feeling his words shake faintly as he breathed them. He smiled, feeling his eyes sting. “I’m so sorry I—“

                The rest of the words got lost in the crush of arms as the elder LeBeau grabbed him and hugged him hard and fast, one hand against the back of his head and the other gripped hard across his back.

                The older man wept openly, muttering and gasping something in French that the two onlookers could only catch bits and pieces of. Remy replied just a eagerly, the words falling from his lips in happy gush between faint sniffles and cracked sobs.

                “…I thought I had lost you too.”

                “I’m so sorry,” Remy answered, “I wanted to contact you, so many times, but I didn’t dare…I was afraid—“

                “Nevermind it. You’re here, I need nothing more than that.”

                The two thieves grinned at each other, faces red and streaked with relieved tears as they tried to collect themselves. It was only then that Jean-Luc happened to glance over Remy’s shoulder at the two pairs of eyes that had been quietly observing them.

                “Who’s dis, mon fils?”

                Remy looked back at his lovers brightly, “De people who brought me back to you.”

 

***

FINI


End file.
